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THE MIGHTY 






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What did this mean but that I was a spy'? 





The SEATS of 
THE MIGHTY 

Being the Memoirs of Captain Robert Moray, 
sometime an Officer in the Virginia 
Regiment^ and afterwards of 
Amhersf s Regiment 


BY 

GILBERT PARKER 

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NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
1905 


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. Copyright, 1896, 1905, by 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


Published October, 1905, 


To the Memory of 

MADGE HENLEY 






PEEFATOEY NOTE 


This tale would never have been written had it not 
been for the kindness of my distinguished friend Dr. 
John George Bourinot, C. M. G., of Ottawa, whose studies 
in parliamentary procedure, the English and Canadian 
Constitutions, and the history and development of Can- 
ada have been of singular benefit to the Dominion and to 
the Empire. Through Dr. Bourinot’s good offices I came 
to know Mr. James Lemoine, of Quebec, the gifted an- 
tiquarian, and President of the Eoyal Society of Canada. 
Mr. Lemoine placed in my hands certain historical facts 
suggestive of romance. Subsequently, Mr. George M. 
Fairchild, Jr., of Cap Eouge, Quebec, whose library con- 
tains a valuable collection of antique Canadian books, 
maps, and prints, gave me generous assistance and coun- 
sel, allowing me “ the run ” of all his charts, prints, his- 
tories, and memoirs. 


Gilbekt Pakker. 



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CHAPTER PAGE 

1. — An escort to the citadel . . . . 3 

II. — The master of the King’s magazine . . 16 

III. — The wager and the sword .... 31 

IV. — The rat in the trap ...... 42 

V. — The device of the dormouse .... 55 

VI. — Moray tells the story of his life . . 59 

VII. — “Quoth little Garaine” 77 

VIII. — As VAIN as Absalom . . . . . .85 

IX. — A LITTLE CONCERNING THE ChEVALIER DE LA 

Darante 88 

X. — An officer of marines 102 

XI. — The coming of Doltaire 119 

XII. — “The point envenomed too!” .... 130 

XIII. — “A LITTLE boast” 147 

XIV. — Argand Cournal 162 

XV. — In the CHAMBER OF TORTURE .... 180 

XVI.— Be saint or imp 190 

XVII. — Through the bars of the cage . . . 202 

XVIII. — The steep path of conquest .... 212 
XIX. — A danseuse and the Bastile .... 218 
XX. — Upon the ramparts ....... 236 

XXL — La Jongleuse 253 

XXII. — The Lord of Kamaraska , 

ix 


f 



X 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIII. — With Wolfe at Montmorenci .... 277 

XXIV. — The sacred countersign 295 

XXV. — In the cathedral 311 

XXVI. — The secret of the tapestry 322 

XXVII. — A SIDE-WIND OF REVENGE 346 

XXVIIL — “To CHEAT THE DeVIL YET ” 353 

XXIX. — “ Master Devil ” Doltaire 307 

XXX. — “Where all the lovers can hide” . * . . 373 


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S3I? 


^//ifs^jra^ions 



FACING 

PAGE 


What did this mean but that I was a spy? Frontispiece 


He came plump on my upstretched sword 
My arms were well fastened down 
Gabord . . . busied himself with the stanchions 
“ It is no use, dear captain,” said Doltaire 
La Jongleuse stood before them, all in flames . 

Instantly the sentinel’s hand came to my bridle-rein . 300 
She caught from her cloak a dagger and struck him 

in the breast 353 


43 

96 

150 

310 

360 


in the breast. 




THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY 


PRELUDE 

To Sir Edward Seafobth, Bart.^ of Sangley Hope in 

Derbyshire^ and Seaforth House in Hanover Square. 

Dear Ned : You will have them written^ or I shall he 
pestered to my grave ! Is that the voice of a friend of so 
long standing^ And yet it seems but yesterday since we 
had good hours in Virginia together^ or met among the 
ruins of Quebec. My memoirs — these only will content 
you? And to flatter or cajole me you tell me Mr. Pitt 
still urges on the matter. In truth., when he touched flrst 
upon this., I thought it but the courtesy of a great and 
generous man. But indeed I am proud that he is curious 
to hnow more of my long captivity at Quebec., of Monsieur 
Doltaire and all his dealings with me., and the motions he 
made to serve La Pompadour on one hand., and., on the 
other., to win from me that most perfect of ladies.. Made- 
moiselle Alixe Duvarney. 

Our bright conquest of Quebec is now heroic memory., 
and honour and fame and reward have been parcelled out 
So I shall but briefly., in these memoirs {ay., they shall be 
written., and with a good heart)., travel the trail of history., 
or discourse upon campaigns and sieges, diplomacies and 
treaties. I shall keep close to my own story ; for that, it 
would seem, yourself and the illustrious minister of the 

1 


2 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


King most wish to hear. Yet you will find figuring in it 
great men like our fiaming hero General Wolfe., and also 
General Montcalm., who, I shall ever keep on saying, might 
have held Quebec against us, had he not been balked by the 
vain Governor, the Marquis de Vaudreuil; together with 
such notorious men as the Intendant Bigot, civil governor 
of New France, and such noble gentlemen as the Seigneur 
Duvarney, father of Alixe. 

I shall never view again the citadel on those tall 
heights ivhere I was detained so barbarously, nor the gra- 
cious Manor House at Beauport, sacred to me because of 
her who dwelt therein — how long ago, how long f Of all 
the pictures that fiash before my mind ivhen thinking on 
those times, one is most icith me : that of the fine guest- 
room in the Manor House, ichere I see moving the benign 
maid whose life and deeds alone can make this story worth 
telling. And with one scene therein, and it the most mo- 
mentous in all my days, I shall begin my tale. 

I beg you co7ivey to Mr. Pitt my most obedient com- 
pliments, and say that I take his polite wish as iny com- 
mand. 

With every token of my regard, I am, dear Ned, a ffec- 
tionately your friend. 


Robert Moray. 


AI^ ESCORT TO THE CITADEL. 




HEN Monsieur Doltaire entered the 
salon, and, dropping lazily into a 
chair beside Madame Duyarney and 
her daughter, drawled out, “Eng- 
land’s Braddock — fool and general 
gone to heaven. Captain Moray, and your papers send 
you there also,” I did not shift a jot, but looked over 
at him gravely — for, God knows, I was startled — and 
I said, 

“ The general is dead ? ” 

I did not dare to ask. Is he defeated ? though from 
Doltaire’s look I was sure it was so; and a sickness 
crept through me, for at the moment that seemed the 
end of our cause. But I made as if I had not heard his 
words about my papers. 

“Dead as a last year’s courtier, shifted from the 
scene,” her eplied ; “ and, having little now to do, we’ll go 
play with the rat in our trap. ” 

I would not have dared look towards Alixe, standing 
beside her mother then, for the song in my blood was 
pitched too high, were it not that a little sound broke 
from her. At that I glanced, and saw that her face was 
still and quiet, but her eyes were shining anxiously, and 
her whole body seemed listening. I dared not give my 
glance meaning, though I wished to do so. She had served 
me much, had been a good friend to me, since I was brought 
a hostage to Quebec from Fort Necessity. There, at that 

3 



4 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


little post on the Ohio, France tlirew down the gauntlet, 
which gave us the great Seven Years’ War. And though 
it may be thought I speak rashly, the lever to spring that 
trouble had been within my grasp. Had France sat still 
while Austria and Prussia quarrelled, that long fighting 
had never been. The game of war had lain with the 
Grande Marquise — or La Pompadour, as she was called — 
and later it may he seen how I, unwillingly, moved her to 
set it going. 

Answering Monsieur Doltaire I said, stoutly, “ I am 
sure our general made a good fight ; he had gallant men.” 

“ Truly gallant,” he returned — “your own Virginians 
among others ” (I bowed) ; “ but he was a blunderer, as 
were you also, monsieur, or you had not sent him plans 
of our forts and letters of such candour. They have gone 
to France, my captain.” 

Madame Duvarney seemed to stiffen in her chair, for 
what did this mean hut that I was a spy ? and the young 
lady behind them now put her handkerchief to her mouth 
as if to stop a word. To make light of the charges 
against myself was the only thing, and yet I had little 
heart to do so. There was that between Monsieur Dol- 
taire and myself — a matter I shall come to by and by — 
which well might make me apprehensive. 

“ My sketch and my gossip with my friends,” said I, 
“ can have little interest in France.” 

“ My faith, the Grande Marquise will find a relish for 
them,” he said pointedly at me. He, the natural son of 
King Louis, had played the part between La Pompadour 
and myself in the grave matter of which I spoke. “ She 
loves deciding knotty points of morality,” he added. 

“ She has had will and chance enough,” said I boldly, 
“ but what point of morality is here ? ” 

“ The most vital— to you,” he rejoined, flicking his 
handkerchief a little, and drawling so that I could have 


AN ESCORT TO THE CITADEL. 


5 


stopped his mouth with my hand. “ Shall a hostage on 
parole make sketches of a fort and send them to his 
friends, who in turn pass them on to a foolish general ? ” 

“ When one party to an Article of War wilfully breaks 
his sworn promise, shall the other be held to his?” I 
asked quietly. 

I was glad that at this moment the Seigneur Du^ 
Varney entered, for I could feel the air now growing 
colder about Madame his wife. He at least was a good 
friend ; but as I glanced at him I saw his face was trou- 
bled and his manner distant. He looked at Monsieur 
Doltaire a moment steadily, stooped to his wife’s hand, 
and then offered me his own without a word. This done, 
he went to where his daughter stood. She kissed him, 
and, as she did so, whispered something in his ear, to 
which he nodded assent. I knew afterwards that she had 
asked him to keep me to dinner with them. 

Presently turning to Monsieur Doltaire, he said in- 
quiringly, “ You have a squad of men outside my house, 
Doltaire ? ” 

Doltaire nodded in a languid way, and answered, “ An 
escort — for Captain Moray — to the citadel.” 

I knew now, as he had said, that I was in the trap ; 
that he had begun the long sport which came near giving 
me the white shroud of death, as it turned white the hair 
upon my head ere I was thirty-two. Do I not know that 
the indignities, the miseries I suffered, I owed mostly to 
him, and that at the last he well-nigh robbed England of 
her greatest pride, the taking of New France? — For 
chance sometimes lets humble men like me balance the 
scales of fate ; and I was humble enough in rank, if in 
spirit always something above my place. 

I was standing as he spoke these words, and I turned 
to him and said, “ Monsieur, I am at your service.” 

“ I have sometimes wished,” he said instantly, and with 


6 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


a courteous if ironical gesture, “ that you were in my 
service — that is, the King’s.” 

I bowed as to a compliment, for I would not see the 
insolence, and I retorted, “ Would I could offer you a 
company in my Virginia regiment ! ” 

“ Delightful ! delightful ! ” he rejoined. “ I should 
make as good a Briton as you a Frenchman, every whit.” 

I suppose he would have kept leading on to such silly 
play, had I not turned to Madame Duvarney and said, “ I 
am most sorry that this mishap falls here ; hut it is not 
of my doing, and in colder comfort, Madame, I shall re- 
call the good hours spent in your home.” 

I think I said it with a general courtesy, yet, feeling 
the eyes of the young lady on me, perhaps a little extra 
warmth came into my voice, and worked upon Madame, 
or it may be she was glad of my removal from contact 
with her daughter ; but kindness showed in her face, and 
she replied gently, “ I am sure it is only for a few days 
till we see you again.” 

Yet I think in her heart she knew my life was perilled : 
those were rough and hasty times, when the axe or the 
rope was the surest way to deal with troubles. Three 
years before, at Fort Necessity, I had handed my sword 
to my lieutenant, bidding him make healthy use of it, 
and, travelling to Quebec on parole, had come in and out 
of this house with great freedom. Yet since Alixe had 
grown towards womanhood there had been marked change 
in Madame’s manner. 

■"“The days, however few, will be too long until I tax 
your courtesy again,” I said. “ I bid you adieu; Madame.” 

“ Nay, not so,” spoke up my host ; “ not one step : 
dinner is nearly served, and you must both dine with us. 
Nay, but I insist,” he added, as he saw me shake my 
head. “ Monsieur Doltaire will grant you this courtesy, 
and me the great kindness. Eh, Doltaire ? ” 


AN ESCORT TO THE CITADEL. 


7 


Doltaire rose, glancing from Madame to her daughter. 
Madame was smiling, as if begging his consent; for, 
profligate though he was, his position, and, more than all, 
his personal distinction, made him a welcome guest at 
most homes in Quebec. Alixe met his ’look without a 
yes or no in her eyes — so young, yet having such control 
and wisdom, as I have had reason beyond all men to 
know. Something, however, in the temper of the scene 
had filled her with a kind of glow, which added to her 
beauty and gave her dignity. The spirit of her look 
caught the admiration of this expatriated courtier, and I 
knew that a deeper cause than all our past conflicts — and 
they were great — would now, or soon, set him fatally 
against me. 

“ I shall be happy to wait Captain Moray’s pleasure,” 
he said presently, “ and to serve my own by sitting at 
your table. I was to have dined with the Intendant this 
afternoon, but a messenger shall tell him duty stays me. 
... If you will excuse me ! ” he added, going to the 
door to And a man of his company. lie looked back for 
an instant, as if it struck him I might seek escape, for 
he believed in no man’s truth ; but he only said, “ I 
may fetch my men to your kitchen, Duvarney ? ’Tis raw 
outside.” 

“ Surely. I shall see they have some comfort,” was 
the reply. 

Doltaire then left the room, and Duvarney came to 
me. “ This is a bad business, Moray,” he said sadly. 
“ There is some mistake, is there not?” 

I looked him fair in the face. “ There is a mistake,” 
I answered. “ I am no spy, and I do not fear that I shall 
lose my life, my honour, or my friends by offensive acts of 
mine.” 

“ I believe you,” he responded, “ as I have believed 
since you came, though there has been gabble of your 


8 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


doings. I do not forget you bought my life back from 
those wild Mohawks five years ago. You have my hand 
in trouble or out of it.” 

Upon my soul, I could have fallen on his neck, for 
the blow to our cause and the shadow on my own fate 
oppressed me for the moment ! 

At this point the ladies left the room to make some 
little toilette before dinner, and as they passed me the 
sleeve of Alixe’s dress touched my arm. I caught her 
fingers for an instant, and to this day I can feel that 
warm, rich current of life coursing from finger-tips to 
heart. She did not look at me at all, but passed on after 
her mother. Never till that moment had there been any 
open show of heart between us. When I first came to 
Quebec (I own it with shame) I was inclined to use her 
youthful friendship for private and patriotic ends ; but 
that soon passed, and then I wished her companionship 
for true love of her. Also, I had been held back be- 
cause when I first knew her she seemed but a child. 
Yet how quickly and how wisely did she grow out of her 
childhood ! She had a playful wit, and her talents were 
far beyond her years. It amazed me often to hear her 
sum up a thing in some pregnant sentence which, when 
you came to think, was the one word to be said. She had 
such a deep look out of her blue eyes that you were hard- 
ly drawn from them to see the warm sweet colour of her 
face, the fair broad forehead, the brown hair, the delicate 
richness of her lips, which ever were full of humour and 
of seriousness — both running together, as you may see a 
laughing brook steal into the quiet of a river. 

Duvarney and I were thus alone for a moment, and 
he straightway dropped a hand upon my shoulder. “ Let 
me advise you,” he said, “ be friendly with Doltaire. He 
has great infiuence at the Court and elsewhere. He can 
make your bed hard or soft at the citadel.” 


AN ESCORT TO THE CITADEL. 


9 


I smiled at him, and replied, “ I shall sleep no less 
sound because of Monsieur Doltaire.” 

“ You are bitter in your trouble,” said he. 

I made haste to answer, “ No, no, my own troubles do 
not weigh so heavy— but our General’s death ! ” 

“ You are a patriot, my friend,” he added warmly. 

I could well have been content with our success against 
your English army without this deep danger to your 
person.” 

I put out my hand to him, but I did not speak, for 
just then Doltaire entered. He was smiling at something 
in his thought. 

“ The fortunes are with the Intendant always,” said 
he. “ When things are at their worst, and the King’s 
storehouse, the dear La Friponne, is to be ripped by our 
rebel peasants like a sawdust doll, here comes this gay 
news of our success on the Ohio ; and in that Braddock’s 
death the whining beggars will forget their empty bellies^ 
and bless where they meant to curse. What fools, to be 
sure ! They had better loot La Friponne. Lord, how we 
love fighting, we French ! And ’tis so much easier to 
dance, or drink, or love.” He stretched out his shapely 
legs as he sat musing. 

Duvarney shrugged a shoulder, smiling. “ But you, 
Doltaire — there’s no man out of France that fights more.” 

He lifted an eyebrow. “ One must be in the fashion ; 
besides, it does need some skill to fight. The others — to 
dance, drink, love : blind men’s games ! ” He smiled cyn- 
ically into the distance. 

I have never known a man who interested me so 
much — never one so original, so varied, and so uncom- 
mon in his nature. I marvelled at the pith and depth 
of his observations ; for though I agreed not with him 
once in ten times, I loved his great reflective cleverness 
and his fine penetration — singular gifts in a man of 


10 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


action. But action to him was a playtime ; he had that 
irresponsibility of the Court from which he came, its 
scornful endurance of defeat or misery, its flippant look 
upon the world, its scoundrel view of women. Then he 
and Duvarney talked, and I sat thinking. Perhaps the 
passion of a cause grows in you as you suffer for it, and I 
had suffered, and suffered most by a bitter inaction. Gov- 
ernor Dinwiddie, Mr. Washington (alas that, as I write 
the fragment chapters of my life, among the hills where 
Montrose my ancestor fought, George leads the colonists 
against the realm of England !), and the rest were suffer- 
ing, but they were fighting too. Brought to their knees 
they could rise again to battle ; and I thought then. How 
more glorious to be with my gentlemen in blue from Vir- 
ginia, holding back death from the General, and at last 
falling myself, than to spend good years a hostage at Que- 
bec, knowing that Canada was for our taking, yet doing 
nothing to advance the hour ! 

In the thick of these thoughts I was not conscious of 
what the two were saying, but at last I caught Madame 
Cournal’s name; by which I guessed Monsieur Doltaire 
was talking of her amours, of which the chief and final was 
with Bigot the Intendant to whom the King had given 
all civil government, all power over commerce and finance 
in the country. The rivalry between the Governor and 
the Intendant was keen and vital at this time, though it 
changed later, as I will show. At her name I looked up 
and caught Monsieur Doltaire’s eye. 

He read my thoughts. “ You have had blithe hours 
here, monsieur,” he said — “ you know the way to probe 
us ; but of all the ladies who could be most useful to you, 
you left out the greatest. There you erred. I say it as a 
friend, not as an officer, there you erred. From Madame 
Cournal to Bigot, from Bigot to Vaudreuil the Governor, 
from the Governor to France. But now- ” 


AN ESCORT TO THE CITADEL. 


11 


He paused, for Madame Duvarney and her daughter 
had come, and we all rose. 

The ladies had heard enough to know Doltaire’s mean- 
ing. “ But now — Captain Moray dines with us,” said 
Madame Duvarney quietly and meaningly. 

“ Yet I dine with Madame Cournal,” rejoined Dol- 
taire, smiling. 

“One may use more option with enemies and prison- 
ersi^’ she said keenly, and the shot struck home. In so 
small a place it was not easy to draw lines close and fine, 
and it was in the power of the Intendant, backed by his 
confederates, to ruin almost any family in the province if 
he chose ; and that he chose at times I knew well, as did 
my hostess. Yet she was a woman of courage and nobility 
of thought, and I knew well where her daughter got her 
good flavour of mind. 

I could see something devilish in the smile at Dol- 
taire’s lips, but his look was wandering between Alixe and 
me, and he replied urbanely, “ I have ambition yet — to 
connive at captivity ” ; and then he gazed full and mean- 
ingly at her. 

I can see her now, her hand on the high back of a great 
oak chair, the lace of her white sleeve falling away, and 
her soft arm showing, her eyes on his without wavering. 
They did not drop, nor turn aside ; they held straight on, 
calm, strong — and understanding. By that look I saw 
she read him ; she, who had seen so little of the world, 
felt what he was, and met his invading interest firmly, 
yet sadly ; for I knew long after that a smother was at 
her heart then, foreshadowings of dangers that would try 
her as few women are tried. Thank God that good 
women are born with greater souls for trial than men; 
that given once an anchor for their hearts they hold until 
the cables break. 

When we were about to enter the dining-room, I saw, 


12 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


to my joy, Madame incline towards Doltaire, and I knew 
that Alixe was for myself — though her mother wished it 
little, I am sure. As she took my arm, her finger-tips 
plunged softly info the velvet of my sleeve, giving me a 
thrill of courage. I felt my spirits ' and I set myself 
to carry things off gaily, to have this last hour with her 
clear of gloom, for it seemed easy to think that we should 
meet no more. 

As we passed into the dining-room, I said, as I had 
said the first time I went to dinner in her father’s V-'U 
“ Shall we be fiippant, or grave ? ” ov ' ) 

I guessed that it would touch her. She raised hq }es 
to mine and answered, “We are grave ; let us seem fiippant.” 

In those days I had a store of spirits. I was seldom 
dismayed, for life had been such a rough-and-tumble 
game that I held to cheerfulness and humour as a hills- 
man to his broadsword, knowing it the greatest of weapons 
with a foe, and the very stone and mortar of friendship. 
So we were cheerful, touching lightly on events around us, 
laughing at gossip of the doorways (I in my poor French), 
casting small stones at whatever drew our notice, not for- 
getting a throw or two at Chteau Bigot, the Intendant’s 
country house at Charlesbourg five miles away, where 
base plots were hatched, reputations soiled, and all clean 
things dishonoured. But Alixe, the sweetest soul France 
ever gave the world, could not know all I knew ; guessing 
only at heavy carousals, cards, song, and raillery, with far- 
off hints of feet smaller than fit in cavalry boots dancing 
among the glasses on the table. I was never before so 
charmed with her swift intelligence, for I have ever lacked 
great nimbleness of thought and power to make nice play 
with the tongue. 

“ You have been three years with us,” suddenly said 
her father, passing me the wine. “ How time has flown ! 
How much has happened ! ” 


AN ESCORT TO THE CITADEL. 


13 


“ Madame CournaPs husband has made three million 
francs,” said Doltaire, with dry irony and truth. 

Duvarney shrugged a shoulder, stiffened ; for, oblique 
as the suggestion Jsvas, he did not care to have his daugh- 
ter hear it. • . h 

“ And Vaudreuil has sent to Versailles bees buzzing 
of Bigot and Company,” added the impish satirist. 

Madame Duvarney responded with a look of interest, 
and the Seigneur’s eyes steadied to his plate. All at 
I divined that the Seigneur had known of the 
rnor’s action, and maybe had counselled with him, 
f g against Bigot. If that were so — as it proved to 
be — he was in a nest of scorpions ; for who among them 
would spare him : Marin, Cournal, Rigaud, the Intendant 
himself? Such as he were thwarted right and left in 
this career of knavery and public evils. 

“ And our people have turned beggars ; poor and 
starved, they beg at the door of the King’s storehouse — 
it is well called La Friponne,” said Madame Duvarney, 
with some heat ; for she was ever liberal to the poor, and 
she had seen manor after manor robbed, and peasant 
farmers made to sell their corn for a song, to be sold to 
them again at famine prices by La Friponne. Even now 
Quebec was full of pilgrim poor begging against the hard 
winter and execrating their spoilers. 

Doltaire was too fond of digging at the heart of 
things not to admit she spoke truth. 

“ La Pompadour et La Friponne ! 

Qu’est que cela, mon petit homme f ” 

“ Les deux terribles, ma chere mignonne, 

Mais, c’est cela — 

La Pompadour et La Friponne I ” 

He said this with cool drollery and point, in the patois 
of the native, so that he set us all laughing, in spite of 
our mutual apprehensions. 


14 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


Then he continued, “ And the King has sent a chorus 
to the play, with eyes for the preposterous make-believe, 
and more, no purse to fill.” 

We all knew he meant himself, and we knew also that 
so far as money went he spoke true ; that though hand- 
in-glove with Bigot, he was poor save for what he 
made at the gaming-table and got from France. There 
was the thing to have clinched me to him, had matters 
been other than they were ; for all my life I have loathed 
the sordid soul, and I would rather, in these my ripe years, 
jBat with a highwayman who takes his life in his hands 
than with the civilian who robs his king and the king’s 
poor, and has no better trick than false accounts nor- 
better friend than the pettifogging knave. Doltaire had 
no burning love for France, and little faith in anything ; 
for he was of those Versailles water-flies who recked 
not if the world blackened to cinders when their lights 
went out. As will be seen by and by, he had come here 
to seek me and through me to serve the Grande Marquise. 

The evening was well forward when Doltaire, rising 
from his seat in the drawing-room, bowed to me, and 
said, “ If it pleases you, monsieur ? ” 

I rose also, and prepared to go. There was little talk, 
yet we all kept up a play of cheerfulness. When I came 
to take the Seigneur’s hand, Doltaire was a distance off, 
talking to Madame. “ Moray,” said the Seigneur quickly 
and quietly, “ trials portend for both of us.” He nodded 
towards Doltaire. 

“ But we shall come safe through,” said I. 

“ Be of good courage, and adieu,” he answered, as 
Doltaire turned towards us. 

My last words were to Alixe. The great moment of 
my life was come. If I could but say one thing to her 
out of earshot, I would stake all on the hazard. She was 
standing beside a cabinet, very still, a strange glow in her 


AN ESCORT TO THE CITADEL. 


15 


eyes, a new, fine firmness at the lips. I felt I dared not 
look as I would ; I feared there was no chance now to 
speak what I would. But I came slowly up the room 
with her mother. As we did so Doltaire exclaimed and 
started to the window, and the Seigneur and Madame 
followed. A red light was showing on the panes. 

I caught Alixe’s eye, and held it, coming quickly to 
her. All backs were on us. I took her hand and 
pressed it to my lips suddenly. She gave a little gasp, 
and I saw her bosom heave. 

“ I am going from prison to prison,” said I, “ and I 
leave a loved jailer behind.” 

She understood. “ Your jailer goes also,” she an- 
swered, with a sad smile. 

“ I love you, Alixe, I love you ! ” I urged. 

She was very pale. “ Oh, Robert ! ” she whispered 
timidly ; and then, “ I will be brave, I will help you, and 
I will not forget. God guard you.” 

That was all, for Doltaire turned to me and said, 
“ They’ve made of La Friponne a torch to light you to 
the citadel, monsieur.” 

A moment afterwards we were outside in the keen 
October air, a squad of soldiers attending, our faces to- 
wards the citadel heights. I looked back, doffing my cap. 
The Seigneur and Madame stood at the door, but my 
eyes were for a window where stood Alixe. The reflec- 
tion of the far-off fire bathed the glass, and her face had 
a glow, the eyes shining through, intense and most seri- 
ous. Yet she was brave, for she lifted her handkerchief, 
shook it a little, and smiled. 

As though the salute were meant for him, Doltaire 
bowed twice impressively, and then we stepped forward, 
the great fire over against the Heights lighting us and 
hurrying us on. 

We scarcely spoke as we went, though Doltaire hummed 


16 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


now and then the air La Pompadour et La Friponne. 
As we came nearer I said, “ Are you sure it is La Friponne, 
monsieur ? ” 

“ It is not,” he said, pointing. “ See ! ” 

The sky was full of shaking sparks, and a smell of 
burning grain came down the wind. 

“ One of the granaries, then,” I added, “ not La Fri- 
ponne itself ? ” 

To this he nodded assent, and we pushed on. 


II. 


THE MASTER OF THE KING’S MAGAZINE. 

“ What fools,” said Doltaire presently, “ to burn the 
bread and oven too ! If only they were less honest in a 
world of rogues, poor moles ! ” 

Coming nearer, we saw that La Friponne itself was 
safe, but one warehouse was doomed and another threat- 
ened. The streets were full of people, and thousands of 
excited peasants, labourers, and sailors were shouting, 
“ Down with the palace ! Down with Bigot ! ” 

We came upon the scene at the most critical moment. 
None of the Governor’s soldiers were in sight, but up the 
Heights we could hear the steady tramp of General 
Montcalm’s infantry as they came on. Where were 
Bigot’s men? There was a handful — one company — 
drawn up before La Friponne, idly leaning on their 
muskets, seeing the great granary burn, and watching 
La Friponne threatened by the mad crowd and the fire. 
There was not a soldier before the Intendant’s palace, 
not a light in any window. 


THE MASTER OP THE KING’S MAGAZINE, 17 


“What is this weird trick of Bigot’s?” said Doltaire, 
musing. 

The Governor, we knew, had been out of the city that 
day. But where was Bigot? At a word from Doltaire 
we pushed forward towards the palace, the soldiers keep- 
ing me in their midst. We were not a hundred feet from 
the great steps when two gates at the right suddenly 
swung open, and a carriage rolled out swiftly and dashed 
down into the crowd. I recognised the coachman first — 
Bigot’s, an old one-eyed soldier of surpassing nerve, and 
devoted to his master. The crowd parted right and left. 
Suddenly the carriage stopped, and Bigot stood up, folding 
his arms, and glancing round with a disdainful smile with- 
out speaking a word. He carried a paper in one hand. 

Here were at least two thousand armed and unarmed 
peasants, sick with misery and oppression, in the presence 
of their undefended tyrant. One shot, one blow of a stone, 
one stroke of a knife — to the end of a shameless pillage. 
But no hand was raised to do the deed. The roar of 
voices subsided — he waited for it — and silence was broken 
only by the crackle of the burning building, the tramp of 
Montcalm’s soldiers on Palace Hill, and the tolling of the 
cathedral bell. I thought it strange that almost as Bigot 
issued forth the wild clanging gave place to a cheerful peal. 

After standing for a moment, looking round him, his 
eye resting on Doltaire and myself (we were but a little 
distance from him). Bigot said in a loud voice : “ What 
do you want with me ? Do you think I may be moved 
by threats? Do you punish me by burning your own 
food, which, when the English are at our doors, is your 
only hope ? Eoolsj How easily could I turn my cannon 
and my men upon you ! You think to frighten me. Who 
do you think I am — a Bostonnais or an Englishman? 
You— revolutionists ! T’sh ! You are wild dogs without 
a leader. You want one that you can trust; you want 


18 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


no coward, but one wbo fears you not at your wildest 
Well, I will be your leader. I do not fear you, and 1 
do not love you, for how might you deserve love 1 
By ingratitude and aspersion? Who has the King’s 
favour? Fran9ois Bigot. Who has the ear of the Grande 
Marquise? Fran9ois Bigot. Who stands firm while 
others tremble lest their power pass to-morrow? Fran9ois 
Bigot. Who else dare invite revolution, this danger ^ 
his hand sweeping to the flames — “ who but Fran9ois 
Bigot ? ” He paused for a moment, and looking up to 
the leader of Montcalm’s soldiers on the Heights, wa^ed 
him back ; then continued : 

“And to-day, when I am ready to give you great 
news, you play the mad dog’s game ; you destroy what I 
had meant to give you in our hour of danger, when those 
English came. I made you suffer a little, that you might 
live then. Only to-day, because of our great and glorious 
victory ” 

He paused again. The peal of bells became louder. 
Far up on the Heights we heard the calling of bugles and 
the beating of drums; and now I saw the whole large 
plan, the deep dramatic scheme. He had withheld the 
news of the victory that he might announce it when it 
would most turn to his own glory. Perhaps he had not 
counted on the burning of the warehouse, but this would 
tell now in his favour. He was not a large man, but he 
drew himself up with dignity, and continued in a con- 
temptuous tone : ‘ 

“ Because of our splendid victory, I designed to tell 
you all my plans, and, pitying your trouble, divide among 
you at the smallest price, that all might pay, the corn 
which now goes to feed the stars.” 

At that moment some one from the Heights above 
called out shrilly, “What lie is in that paper, Fran9ois 
Bigot?” 


THE MASTER OF THE KING’S MAGAZINE. 19 


I looked up, as did the crowd. A woman stood upon 
a point of the great rock, a red robe hanging on her, her 
hair free over her shoulders, her finger pointing at the 
Intendant. Bigot only glanced up, then smoothed out 
the paper. 

He said to the people in a clear but less steady voice, 
for I could see that the woman had disturbed him, “ Go 
pray to be forgiven for your insolence and folly. His 
most Christian Majesty is triumphant upon the Ohio. 
The English have been killed in thousands, and their 
General with them. Do you not hear the joy-bells in the 
Church of Our Lady of the Victories ? and more — listen ! 

There burst from the Heights on the other side a can- 
non shot, and then another and another. There was a 
great commotion, and many ran to Bigot’s carriage, 
reached in to touch his hand, and called down blessings 
on him. 

“See that you save the other granaries,” he urged, 
adding, with a sneer, “ and forget not to bless La Friponne 
in your prayers ! ” 

It was a clever piece of acting. Presently from the 
Heights above came the woman’s voice again, so piercing 
that the crowd turned to her. 

“ Frangois Bigot is a liar and a traitor ! ” she cried. 
“ Beware of Fran9ois Bigot ! God has cast him out.” 

A dark look came upon Bigot’s face ; but presently he 
turned, and gave a sign to some one near the palace. The 
doors of the courtyard flew open, and out came squad 
after squad of soldiers. In a moment, they, with the 
people, were busy carrying water to pour upon the side 
of the endangered warehouse. Fortunately the wind was 
with them, else it and the palace also would have been 
burned that night. 

At last Bigot beckoned to Doltaire and to me and we 
both came over. 


20 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


“Doltaire, we looked for you at dinner,” he said. 
“ Was Captain Moray ” — nodding towards me — “ lost 
among the petticoats ? He knows the trick of cup and 
saucer. Between the sip and click he sucked in secrets 
from our garrison — a spy where had been a soldier, as we 
thought. You once wore a sword. Captain Moray — eh ?” 

“ If the Governor would grant me leave, I would not 
only wear, but use one, your excellency knows well where,” 
said 1. 

“ Large speaking. Captain Moray. They do that in 
Virginia, I am told.” 

“ In Gascony there’s quiet, your excellency.” 

Doltaire laughed outright, for it was said that Bigot, 
in his coltish days, had a shrewish Gascon wife, whom he 
took leave to send to heaven before her time. I saw the 
Intendant’s mouth twitch angrily. 

“ Come,” he said, “ you have a tongue ; we’ll see if 
you have a stomach. You’ve languished with the girls ; 
you shall have your chance to drink with Fran 9 ois Bigot. 
Now, if you dare, when we have drunk to the first cock- 
crow, should you be still on your feet, you’ll fight some 
one among us, first giving ample cause.” 

“ I hope, your excellency,” I replied, with a touch of 
vanity, “ I have still some stomach and a wrist. I will 
drink to cockcrow, if you will. And if my sword prove 
the stronger, what ? ” 

“There’s the point,” he said. “Your Englishman 
loves not fighting for fighting’s sake, Doltaire ; he must 
have bonbons for it. Well, see : if your sword and stom- 
ach prove the stronger, you shall go your ways to where 
you will. VoiJa ! ” 

If I could but have seen a bare portion of the crafti- 
ness of this pair of devil’s artisans ! They both had ends 
to serve in working ill to me, and neither was content 
that I should be shut away in the citadel, and no more. 


THE MASTER OP THE KING’S MAGAZINE. 21 


There was a deeper game playing. I give them their due : 
the trap was skilful, and in those times, with great things 
at stake, strategy took the place of open fighting here and 
there. For Bigot I was to be a weapon against another; 
for Doltaire, against myself. 

What a gull they must have thought me ! I might 
have known that, with my lost papers on the way to 
France, they must hold me tight here till I had been 
tried, nor permit me to escape. But I was sick of doing 
nothing, thinking with horror on a long winter in the 
citadel, and I caught at the least straw of freedom. 

“ Captain Moray will like to spend a couple of hours 
at his lodgings before he joins us at the palace,” the In- 
tendant said, and with a nod to me he turned to his 
coachman. The horses wheeled, and in a moment the 
great doors opened, and he had passed inside to applause, 
though here and there among the crowd was heard a hiss, 
for the Scarlet Woman had made an impression. The 
Intendant’s men essayed to trace these noises, but found 
no one. Looking again to the Heights, I saw that the 
woman had gone. Doltaire noted my glance and the 
inquiry in my face, and he said : 

“ Some bad fighting hours with the Intendant at 
Chdteau Bigot, and then a fever, bringing a kind of 
madness : so the story creeps about, as told by Bigot’s 
enemies.” 

Just at this point I felt a man hustle me as he 
passed. One of the soldiers made a thrust at him, and 
he turned round. I caught his eye, and it flashed some- 
thing to me. It was Voban the barber, who had shaved 
me every day for months when I first came, while my 
arm was stiff from a wound got fighting the French on 
the Ohio. It was quite a year since I had met him, and 
I was struck by the change in his face. It had grown 
much older ; its roundness was gone. We had had many 
3 


22 the seats of the mighty. 

a talk together, he helping me with French, I listening 
to the tales of his early life in France, and 'to the later tale 
of a humble love, and of the home which he was fitting 
up for his Mathilde, a peasant girl of much beauty I was 
told, but whom I had never seen. I remembered at that 
moment, as he stood in the crowd looking at me, the 
piles of linen which he had bought at Ste. Anne de 
Beaupr6, and the silver pitcher which his grandfather 
had got from the Due de Valois for an act of merit. 
Many a time we had discussed the pitcher and the deed 
and fingered the linen, now talking in French, now in 
English ; for in France, years before, he had been a valet 
to an English officer at King Louis’s court. But my 
surprise had been great when I learned that this Eng- 
lish gentleman was no other than the best friend I ever 
had, next to my parents and my grandfather. Voban was 
bound to Sir John Godric by as strong ties of affection 
as I. What was more, by a secret letter I had sent to 
Mr. George Washington, who was then as good a Briton 
as myself, I had been able to have my barber’s young 
brother, a prisoner of war, set free. 

I felt that he had something to say to me now; but 
he turned away and disappeared among the crowd. I 
might have had some clew if I had known that he had 
been crouched behind the Intendant’s carriage while I 
was being bidden to the supper. I did not guess then 
that there was anything between him and the Scarlet 
Woman who railed at Bigot. 

In a little while I was at my lodgings, soldiers posted 
at my door and one in my room. Doltaire had gone to 
his own quarters promising to call for me within two 
hours. There was little for me to do but to put in a 
bag the fewest necessaries, to roll up my heavy cloak, to 
stow safely my pipes and two goodly packets of tobacco, 
which were to be my chiefest solace for many a long 


THE MASTER OP THE KING’S MAGAZINE. 23 

day, and to write some letters — one to Governor Dinwid- 
dle, one to Major Washington, one to my partner in 
Virginia, telling them my fresh misfortunes, and begging 
them to send me money, which, however useless in my 
captivity, would be important in my fight for life and 
freedom. I did not write intimately of my state, for I 
was not sure my letters would ever pass outside Quebec. 
There were only two men I could trust to do the thing. 
One was a fellow-countryman, Clark, a ship-carpenter, 
and something of a ruffian, who, to save his neck and to 
spare his wife and child, had turned Catholic, but who 
hated all Frenchmen barbarously at heart, remembering 
two of his bairns butchered before his eyes. The other 
was Voban. I knew that though Voban might not act he 
would not betray me. But how to reach either of them ? 
It was clear that I must bide my chances. 

One other letter I wrote, brief but vital, in which I 
begged the sweetest girl in the world not to have un- 
easiness because of me ; that I trusted to my star and to 
my innocence to convince my judges ; and begging her, 
if she could, to send me a line at the citadel. I told her 
I knew well how hard it all would be, for her mother and 
her father would not now look upon my love with favour. 
But I trusted everything to time and Providence. 

I sealed my letters, put them in my pocket, and sat 
down to smoke and think while I waited for Doltaire. 
To the soldier on duty whom I did not notice at first 
I now offered a pipe and a glass of wine, which he ac- 
cepted rather gruffly, but enjoyed, if I might judge by 
his devotion to them. 

By-and-bye, without any relevancy at all, he said 
abruptly, “ If a little sooner she had come — aho ! ” 

For a moment I could not think what he meant ; but 
soon I saw. 

“ The palace would have been burned if the girl in 


24 : 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


scarlet had come sooner — eh ? ” I asked. “ She would 
have urged the people on ? ” 

“ And Bigot burnt too, maybe,” he answered. 

“ Fire and death — eh ? ” 

I offered him another pipeful of tobacco. He looked 
doubtful, but accepted. 

“ Aho ! And that Voban, he would have had his 
hand in,” he growled. 

I began to get more light. 

“ She was shut up at Chdteau Bigot — hand of iron 
and lock of steel — who knows the rest? But Voban 
was for always,” he added presently. 

The thing was clear. The Scarlet Woman was Ma- 
thilde. So here was the end of Voban’s little romance — 
of the fine linen from Ste. Anne de Beaupre and the 
silver pitcher for the wedding wine. I saw, or felt, that 
in Voban I might find now a confederate, if I put my 
hard case on Bigot’s shoulders. 

“ I can’t see why she stayed with Bigot,” I said ten- 
tatively. 

“ Break the dog’s leg, it can’t go hunting bones 
— mais^ non ! Holy, how stupid are you English ! ” 

“ Why doesn’t the Intendant lock her up now ? 
She’s dangerous to him ! You remember what she 
said ? ” 

“ Tonnerre^ you shall see to-morrow,” he answered ; 
“ now all the sheep go bleating with the bell. Bigot — 
Bigot — Bigot — there is nothing but Bigot ! But, pish ! 
Vaudreuil the Governor is the great man, and Montcalp:!, 
aho ! son of Mahomet ! You shall see. Now they dance 
to Bigot’s whistling; he will lock her safe enough to- 
morrow, ’less some one steps in to help her. Before 
to-night she never spoke of him before the world — but 
a poor daft thing, going about all sad and wild. She 
missed her chance to-night — aho ! ” 


THE MASTER OP THE KING’S MAGAZINE. 25 


“ Why are you not with Montcalm’s soldiers ? ” I asked. 
“ You like him better.” 

“ I was with him, but my time was out, and I left him 
for Bigot. Pish ! I left him for Bigot, for the militia ! ” 
He raised his thumb to his nose, and spread out his fin- 
gers. Again light dawned on me. He was still with the 
Governor in all fact, though soldiering for Bigot — a sort 
of watch upon the Intendant. 

I saw my chance. If I could but induce this fellow to 
fetch me Voban ! There was yet an hour before I was to 
go to the intendance. 

I called up what looks of candour I could and told 
him bluntly that I wished Voban to bear a letter for me 
to the Seigneur Duvarney’s. At that he cocked his ear 
and shook his bushy head, fiercely stroking his mustaches. 

I knew that I should stake something if I said it was 
a letter for Mademoiselle Duvarney, but I knew also that 
if he was still the Governor’s man in Bigot’s pay he would 
understand the Seigneur’s relations with the Governor. 
And a woman in the case with a soldier — that would 
count for something. So I said it was for her. Besides, 
I had no other resource but to make a friend among my 
enemies if I could, while yet there was a chance. 

It was like a load lifted from me when I saw his mouth 
and eyes open wide in a big soundless laugh, which came 
to an end with a voiceless aho I I gave him another tum- 
bler of wine. Before he took it, he made a wide mouth 
at me again, and slapped his leg. After drinking, he 
said, “Poom — what good? They’re going to hang you 
for a spy.” 

“ That rope’s not ready yet,” I answered. “ I’ll tie a 
pretty knot in another string first, I trust.” 

“Damned if you haven’t spirit!” said he. “That 
Seigneur Duvarney, I know him ; and I know his son the 
ensign — whung^ what saltpetre is he ! And the ma’m’selle 


26 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


—excellent, excellent ; and a face, such a face, and a seat 
like leeches in the saddle. And you a British officer 
mewed up to kick your heels till gallows day ! So droll, 
my dear ! ” 

“ But will you fetch Voban ? ” I asked. 

“ To trim your hair against the supper to-night— eh, 
like that ? ” 

As he spoke he puffed out his red cheeks with wide 
boylike eyes, burst his lips in another soundless laugh, 
and laid a finger beside his nose. His marvellous inno- 
cence of look and his peasant openness hid, I saw, great 
shn^wdness and intelligence — an admirable man for Vau- 
dr'euil’s purpose, as admirable for mine. I knew well 
that if I had tried to bribe him he would have scouted 
me, or if I had made a motion for escape he would have 
shot me off-hand. But a lady — that appealed to him; 
and that she was the Seigneur Duvarney’s daughter did 
the rest. 

“ Yes, yes,” said I, “ one must be well appointed in 
soul and body when one sups with his excellency and 
Monsieur Doltaire.” 

“ Limed inside and chalked outside,” he retorted glee- 
fully. “ But M’sieu’ Doltaire needs no lime, for he has 
no soul. No, by Sainte Heloise ! The good God didn’t 
make him. The devil laughed, and that laugh grew into 
M’sieu’ Doltaire. But brave ! — no kicking pulse is in his 
body,” 

“ You will send for Voban — now ?” I asked softly. 

He was leaning against the door as he spoke. He 
reached and put the tumbler on a shelf, then turned 
and opened the door, his face all altered to a grimness. 

“ Attend here, Labrouk ! ” he called ; and on the soldier 
coming, he blurted out in scorn, “ Here’s this English 
captain can’t go to supper without Yoban’s shears to snip 
him. Go fetch him, for I’d rather hear a calf in a 


THE MASTER OP THE KING’S MAGAZINE. 27 

barn-yard than this whing-whanging for ‘ M’sieu’ Vo- 
ban ! ’ ” 

He mocked my accent in the last two words, so that 
the soldier grinned, and at once started away. Then he 
shut the door, and turned to me again, and said more 
seriously , “ How long have we before Master Devil 
comes ? ” — meaning Doltaire. 

“ At least an hour,” said I. 

“ Good,” he rejoined, and then he smoked while I sat 
thinking. 

It was near an hour before we heard footsteps outside ; 
then came a knock, and Voban was shown in. 

“ Quick, m’sieu’,” he said. “ M’sieu’ is almost at our 
heels.” 

“ This letter,” said I, “ to Mademoiselle Duvarney,” 
and I handed four: hers, and those to Governor Din- 
widdle, to Mr. Washington, and to my partner. 

He quickly put them in his coat, nodding. The 
soldier — I have not yet mentioned his name — Gabord, 
knew not that more than one passed into Voban’s 
hands. 

“ Off with your coat, m’sieu’,” said Voban, whipping 
out his shears, tossing his cap aside, and rolling down his 
apron. “ M’sieu’ is here.” 

I had off my coat, was in a chair in a twinkling, and 
he was clipping softly at me as Doltaire’s hand turned the 
handle of the door. 

“ Beware — to-night ! ” Voban whispered. 

“ Come to me in the prison,” said I. “ Remember 
your brother ! ” 

His lips twitched. “ M’sieu’, I will if I can.” This 
he said in my ear as Doltaire entered and came for- 
ward. 

“ Upon my life ! ” Doltaire broke out. “ These Eng- 
lish gallants ! They go to prison curled and musked by 


28 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


Voban. Volan—d, name from the court of the King, and 
it garnishes a barber ! Who called you, Voban ? 

“ My mother, with the curb’s help, m’sieu’.” 

Doltaire paused, with a pinch of snuff at his nose, and 
replied lazily, “ I did not say ‘Who called you VohanV 
Voban, but who called you here, Voban?” 

I spoke up testily then of purpose r “ What would 
you have, monsieur ? The citadel has better butchers 
than barbers. I sent for him.” • 

He shrugged his shoulders and came over to Voban. 
“ Turn round, my Voban,” he said. “ and such 

a figure ! a knee, a back like that ! ” 

Then, while my heart stood still, he put forth a finger 
and touched the barber on the chest. If he should touch 
the letters ! I was ready to seize them— but would that 
save them? Twice, thrice, the finger prodded Voban’s 
breast, as if to add an emphasis to his words. “ In Quebec 
you are misplaced. Monsieur le Voban. Once a wasp got 
into a honeycomb and died.” 

I knew he was hinting at the barber’s resentment of 
the poor Mathilde’s fate. Something strange and devilish 
leaped into the man’s eyes, and he broke out bitterly, 

“ A honey-bee got into a nest of wasps — and died.” 

I thought of the Scarlet Woman on the hill. 

Voban looked for a moment as if he might do some 
wild thing. His spirit, his devilry, pleased Doltaire, and 
he laughed. “ Who would have thought our Voban had 
such wit ? The trade of barber is double-edged. Ra3ors 
should be in fashion at Versailles.” 

Then he sat down, while Voban made a pretty show 
of touching off my person. A few minutes passed so, in 
which the pealing of bells, the shouting of the people, 
the beating of drums, and the calling of bugles came to 
us clearly. 

A half hour afterwards, on our way to the Intendant’s 


THE MASTER OF THE KING’S MAGAZINE. - 29 

palace, we heard the Benedictus chanted in the Church 
of the Recollets, as we passed — hundreds kneeling outside, 
and I'esponding to the chant sung within : 

“ That we should he saved from our enemies^ and from 
the hands of all that hate usT 

At the corner of a building which we passed, a little 
away from the crowd, I saw a solitary cloaked figure. 
The words of the chant, following us, I could hear dis- 
tinctly : 

“ That we^ being delivered out of the hands of our ene- 
mies^ might serve Him without fear T 

And then, from the shadowed corner came in a high, 
melancholy voice the words : 

“ To give light to them that sit in darkness and in the 
shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of 
peaceT 

Looking closer, I saw it was Mathilde. 

Doltaire smiled as I turned and begged a moment’s 
time to speak to her. 

“ To pray with the lost angel and sup with the In- 
tendant, all in one night^ — a liberal taste, monsieur ; but 
who shall stay the good Samaritan ! ” 

. They stood a little distance away, and I went over to 
her and said, “ Mademoiselle — Mathilde, do you not know 
me?” 

Her abstracted eye fired up, as there ran to her brain 
some little sprite out of the House of Memory and told 
her who I was. 

“ There were two lovers in the world,” she said ; “ the 
Mother of God forgot them, and the devil came. I am 
the Scarlet Woman,” she went on ; “I made this red robe 
from the curtains of Hell ” 

Poor soul ! My own trouble seemed then as a speck 
among the stars to hers. I took her hand and held it, 
saying again, “ Do you not know me ? Think, Mathilde ! ” 


30 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


I was not sure that she had ever seen me, to know me, 
but I thought it possible ; for, as a hostage, I had been 
much noticed in Quebec, and Voban had, no doubt, pointed 
me out to her. Light leaped from her black eye, and then 
she said, putting her finger on her lips, “Tell all the 
lovers to hide. I have seen a hundred Fran9ois Bigots.” 

I looked at her, saying nothing — I knew not what to 
say. Presently her eye steadied to mine, and her intellect 
rallied. “ You are a prisoner, too,” she said ; “ but they 
will not kill you : they will keep you till the ring of fire 
grows in your head, and then you will make your scarlet 
robe, and go out, but you will never find It — never. God 
hid first, and then It hides. ... It hides, that which you 
lost — It hides, and you can not find It again. You go 
hunting, hunting, but you can not find It.” 

My heart was pinched with pain. I understood her. 
She did not know her lover now at all. If Alixe and her 
mother at the Manor could but care for her, I thought. 
But, alas ! what could I do? It were useless to ask her to 
go to the Manor ; she would not understand. 

Perhaps there come to the disordered mind flashes of 
insight, illuminations and divinations, deeper than are 
given to the sane, for she suddenly said in a whisper, 
touching me with a nervous finger, “ I will go and tell 
her where to hide. They shall not find her. I know the 
woodpath to the Manor. Hush ! she shall own all I have 
— except the scarlet robe. She showed me where the 
May-apples grew. Go” — she pushed me gently away — 
“ go to your prison, and pray to God. But you can not 
kill Fran9ois Bigot — he is a devil.” Then she thrust 
into my hands a little wooden cross, which she took from 
many others at her girdle. “ If you wear that the ring of 
fire will not grow,” she said. “I will go by the wood- 
path, and give her one, too. She shall live with me : I 
will spread the balsam branches and stir the fire. She 


THE WAGER AND THE SWORD. 


31 

shall be safe. Hush ! Go, go softly, for their wicked eyes 
are everywhere, the were- wolves ! ” 

She put her fingers on my lips for an instant, and 
then, turning, stole softly away towards the St. Charles 
River. 

Doltaire’s mockery brought me back to myself. 

“ So much for the beads of the addled ; now for the 
bowls of sinful man,” said he. 


III. 

THE WAGER AND THE SWORD. 

As I entered the Intendant’s palace with Doltaire I 
had a singular feeling of elation. My spirits rose unac- 
countably, and I felt as though it were a fete night, and 
the day’s duty over, the hour of play was come. I must 
needs have felt ashamed of it thjen, and now, were I 
not sure it was some unbidden operation of the senses. 
Maybe a merciful Spirit sees how, left alone, we should 
have stumbled and lost ourselves in our own gloom, and 
so gives us a new temper fitted to our needs. I remember 
that at the great door I irurned back and smiled upon the 
ruined granary, and sniffed the air laden with the scent 
of burnt corn — the people’s bread ; that I saw old men 
and women who could not be moved by news of victory, 
shaking with cold, even beside this vast furnace, and 
peevishly babbling of their hunger, and I did not say, 
“ Poor souls ! ” that for a time the power to feel my own 
misfortunes seemed gone, and a hard, light indifference 
came on me. 

For it is true I came into the great dining-hall, and 
looked upon the long loaded table, with its hundred can- 
dles, its fiagons and pitchers of wine, and on the faces of 


32 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


so many idle, careless gentlemen bid to a carouse, with a 
manner, I believe, as reckless and jaunty as their own. 
And I kept it up, though I saw it was not what they 
had looked for. I did not at once know who was there, 
but presently, at a distance from me, I saw the face of 
Juste Duvarney, the brother of my sweet Alixe, a man 
of but twenty or so, who had a name for wildness, for no 
badness that I ever heard of, and for a fiery temper. He 
was in the service of the Grovernor, an ensign. He had 
been little at home since I had come to Quebec, having 
been employed up to the past year in the service of the 
Governor of Montreal. We bowed, but he made no mo- 
tion to come to me, and the Intendant engaged me almost 
at once in gossip of the town ; suddenly, however, diverg- 
ing upon some questions of public tactics and civic gov- 
ernment. He much surprised me, for though I knew him 
brave and able, I had never thought of him save as the 
adroit politician and servant of the King, the tyrant and 
the libertine. I might have known by that very scene a 
few hours before that he had a wide, deep knowledge of 
human nature, and despised it ; unlike Doltaire, who had 
a keener mind, was more refined even in wickedness, and, 
knowing the world, laughed at it more than he despised 
it, which was the sign of the greater mind. And indeed, 
in spite of all the causes I had to hate Doltaire, it is but 
just to say he had by nature all the large gifts — misused 
and disordered as they were. He was the product of his 
age; having no real moral sense, living life wantonly, 
making his own law of right or wrong. As a lad, I was 
taught to think the evil person carried evil in his face, re- 
pelling the healthy mind ; but long ago I found that this 
was error. I had no reason to admire Doltaire, and yet 
to this hour his handsome face, with its shadows and 
shifting lights, haunts me, charms me. The thought 
came to me as I talked with the Intendant, and I looked 


THE WAGER AND THE SWORD. 


33 


round the room. Some present were of coarse calibre — 
bushranging sons of seigneurs and petty nobles, dashing 
and profane, and something barbarous ; but most had 
gifts of person and speech, and all seemed capable. 

My spirits continued high. I sprang alertly to meet 
wit and gossip, my mind ran nimbly here and there, I 
filled the r61e of honoured guest. But when came the 
table and wine, a change befell me. From the first drop 
I drank, my spirits suffered a decline. On one side the 
Intendant rallied me, on the other Doltaire. I ate on, 
drank on ; but while smiling by the force of will, I grew 
graver little by little. Yet it was a gravity which had no 
apparent motive, for I was not thinking of my troubles, 
not even of the night’s stake and the possible end of it 
all ; simply a sort of gray colour of the mind, a stillness 
in the nerves, a general seriousness of the senses. I drank, 
and the wine did not affect me, while voices got loud and 
louder, and glasses rang, and spurs rattled on shuffling 
heels, and a scabbard clanged on a chair. I seemed to 
feel and know it all in some far-off way, but I was not 
touched by the spirit of it, was not a part of it. I watched 
the reddened cheeks and loose scorching mouths around 
me with a sort of distant curiosity, and the ribald jests 
flung right and left struck me not at all acutely. It was 
as if I were reading a Book of Bacchus. I drank on even- 
ly, not doggedly, and answered jest for jest without a hot 
breath of drunkenness. I looked several times at Juste 
Duvarney, who sat not far away, on the other side of the 
table, behind a grand piece of silver filled with October 
roses. He was drinking hard, and Doltaire, sitting beside 
him, kept him at it. At last the silver piece was shifted, 
and he and I could see each other fairly. Now and then 
Doltaire spoke across to me, but somehow no word passed 
between Duvarney and myself. 

Suddenly, as if by magic— I know it was preconcerted 


84 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


— the talk turned on the events of the evening and on the 
defeat of the British. Then, too, I began to be myself 
again, and a sense of my position grew upon me. I had 
been withdrawn from all real feeling and living for hours, 
but I believe that same suspension was my salvation. For 
with every man present deeply gone in liquor round me 
— every man save Doltaire — I was sane and steady, set- 
tling into a state of great alertness, determined on escape, 
if that could be, and bent on turning every chance to serve 
my purposes. 

Now and again I caught my own name mentioned 
with a sneer, then with remarks of surprise, then with in- 
solent laughter. I saw it all. Before dinner some of the 
revellers had been told of the new charge against me, and, 
by instruction, had kept it till the inflammable moment. 
Then the why and wherefore of my presence at this sup- 
per being in the hazard, the stake, as a wicked jest of 
Bigot’s, was mentioned. I could see the flame grow inch 
by inch, fed by the Intendant and Doltaire, whose hateful 
final move I was yet to see. For one instant 5 had a sort 
of fear, for I was now sure they meant I should not leave 
the room alive ; but anon I felt a river of fiery anger flow 
through me, rousing me, making me loathe the faces of 
them all. Yet not all, for in one pale face, with dark, 
brilliant eyes, I saw the looks of my flower of the world : 
the colour of her hair in his, the clearness of the brow, 
the poise of the head — how handsome he was ! — the light, 
springing step, like a deer on the sod of June. I call to 
mind when I first saw him. He was sitting in a window 
of the Manor, just after he had come from Montreal, play- 
ing a violin which had once belonged to De Casson, the 
famous priest whose athletic power and sweet spirit en- 
deared him to New France. His fresh cheek was bent to 
the brown, delicate wood, and he was playing to his sister 
the air of the undying chanson, “ Je vais mourir pour ma 


THE WAGER AND THE SWORD. 


85 


belle reine.” I loved the look of his face, like that of a 
young Apollo, open, sweet, and bold, all his body having 
the epic strength of life. I wished that I might have him 
near me as a comrade, for out of my hard experience 1 
could teach him much, and out of his youth he could 
soften my blunt nature, by comradeship making flexuous 
the hard and ungenial. 

I went on talking to the Intendant, while some of the 
guests rose and scattered about the rooms, at tables, to 
play picquet, the jesting on our cause and the scorn of 
myself abating not at all. I would not have it thought 
that anything was openly coarse or brutal ; it was all 
by innuendo, and brow-lifting, and maddening, allusive 
phrases such as it is thought fit for gentlefolk to use in- 
stead of open charge. There was insult in a smile, con- 
tempt in the turn of a shoulder, challenge in the flicking 
of a handkerchief. With great pleasure I could have 
wrung their noses one by one, and afterwards have met 
them, tossing sword-points, in the same order. I wonder 
now that I did not tell them so, for I was ever hasty ; but 
my brain was clear that night, and I held myself in due 
check, letting each move come from my enemies. There 
was no reason why I should have been at this wild feast 
at all, I, a prisoner charged with being a spy, save be- 
cause of some plot through which fresh suffering should 
come to me and some one else be benefited — though how 
that might be I could not guess at first. 

But soon I understood everything. Presently I heard 
a young gentleman say to Duvarney over my shoulder : 

“ Eating comfits and holding yarn — that was his 
doing at your manor when Doltaire came hunting 
him.” 

“ He has dined at your table, Lancy,” broke out Du- 
varney hotly. 

“ But never with our ladies,” was the biting answer. 


36 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


“ Should prisoners make conditions ? ” was the sharp, 
insolent retort. 

The insult was conspicuous, and trouble might have 
followed, but that Doltaire came between them, shifting 
the attack. 

“ Prisoners, my dear Duvarney,” said he, “ are most 
delicate and exacting; they must be fed on wine and 
milk. It is an easy life, and hearts grow soft for them. 
As thus Indeed, it is most sad : so young and gal- 

lant; in speech, too, so confiding! And if we babble all 
our doings to him, think you he takes it seriously ? No, 
no — so gay and thoughtless, there is a thoroughfare from 
ear to ear, and all’s lost on the other side. Poor simple 
gentleman, he is a claimant on our courtesy, a knight 
without a sword, a guest without the power to leave us — 
he shall make conditions, he shall have his caprice. La, 
la ! my dear Duvarney and my Lancy ! ” 

He spoke in a clear, provoking tone, putting a hand 
upon the shoulder of each young gentleman as he talked, 
his eyes wandering over me idly, and beyond me. I saw 
that he was now sharpening the sickle to his office. His 
next words made this more plain to me : 

“And if a lady gives a farewell sign to one she favours 
for the moment, shall not the prisoner take it as his own ? ” 
(I knew he was recalling Alixe’s farewell gesture to me at 
the manor.) “Who shall gainsay our peacock? Shall 
the guinea cock ? The golden crumb was thrown to the 
guinea cock, but that’s no matter. The peacock clatters 
of the crumb.” At that he spoke an instant in Du- 
varney’s ear. I saw the lad’s face flush, and he looked at 
me angrily. 

Then I knew his object : to provoke a quarrel between 
this young gentleman and myself, which might lead to 
evil ends; and the Intendant’s share in the conspiracy 
was to revenge himself upon the Seigneur for his close 


THE WAGER AND THE SWORD. 


37 


friendship with the Governor. If Juste Duvarney were 
killed in the duel which they foresaw, so far as Doltaire 
was concerned I was out of the counting in the young 
lady’s sight. In any case my life was of no account, for 
I was sure my death was already determined on. Yet it 
seemed strange that Doltaire should wish me dead, for he 
had reasons for keeping me alive, as shall be seen. 

Juste Duvarney liked me once, I knew, but still he 
had the Frenchman’s temper, and had always to argue 
down his bias against my race and to cherish a good 
heart towards me ; for he was young, and sensitive to the 
opinions of his comrades. I can not express what misery 
possessed me when I saw him leave Doltaire, and, coming 
to me where I stood alone, say — 

“ What secrets found you at our seigneury, monsieur?” 

I understood the taunt — as though I were the com- 
mon interrogation mark, the abominable Paul Pry. But 
I held my wits together. 

“ Monsieur,” said I, “ I found the secret of all good 
'ife : a noble kindness to the unfortunate.” 

There was a general laugh, led by Doltaire, a concerted 
influence on the young gentleman. I cursed myself that 
I had been snared to this trap. 

“ The insolent,” responded Duvarney, “ not the unfor- 
tunate.” 

“ Insolence is no crime, at least,” I rejoined quietly, 
‘‘ else this room were a penitentiary.” 

There was a moment’s pause, and presently, as I kept 
my eye on him, he raised his handkerchief and flicked me 
across the face with it, saying, “ Then this will be a vir- 
tue, and you may have more such virtues as often as you 
will.” 

In spite of will, my blood pounded in my veins, and 
a devilish anger took hold of me. To be struck across the 
face by a beardless Frenchman, scarce past his teens ! — it 
4 


38 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


shook me more than now I care to own. I felt my cheek 
burn, my teeth clinched, and I know a kind of snarl came 
from me ; but again, all in a moment, I caught a turn of 
his head, a motion of the hand, which brought back Alixe 
to me. Anger died away, and I saw only a youth flushed 
with wine, stung by suggestions, with that foolish pride 
the youngster feels — and he was the youngest of them all 
— in being as good a man as the best, and as daring as the 
worst. I felt how useless it would be to try the straight- 
ening of matters there, though had we two been alone a 
dozen words should have been enough. . But to try was 
my duty, and I tried with all my might ; almost, for Alixe’s 
sake, with all my heart. 

“Do not trouble to illustrate your meaning,” said I 
patiently. “ Your phrases are clear and to the point.” 

“ You bolt from my words,” he retorted, “ like a shy 
mare on the curb; you take insult like a donkey on a 
well-wheel. What fly will the English flsh rise to ? Now 
it no more plays to my hook than an Au'gust chub.” 

I could not help but admire his spirit and the sharp- 
ness of his speech, though it drew me into a deeper quan- 
dary. It was clear that he would not be tempted to 
friendliness; for, as is often so, when men have said 
things fiercely, their eloquence feeds their passion and 
convinces them of holiness in their cause. Calmly, but 
with a heavy heart, I answered : 

“ I wish not to find offence in your words, my friend, 
for in some good days gone you and I had good acquaint- 
ance, and I can not forget that the last hours of a light 
imprisonment before I entered on a dark one were spent 
in the home of your father — of the brave Seigneur whose 
life I once saved.” 

I am sure I should not have mentioned this in any 
other situation — it seemed as if I were throwing myself 
on his mercy ; but yet I felt it was the only thing to do 


THE WAGER AND THE SWORD. 


39 


— that I must bridge this affair, if at cost of some repu- 
tation. ^ 

It was not to be. Doltaire, seeing that my words had 
indeed affected my opponent, said : “ A double retreat ! 
He swore to give a challenge to-night, and he cries off 
like a sheep from a porcupine ; his courage is so slack he 
dares not move a step to his liberty. It was a bet, a 
hazard. He was to drink glass for glass with any and all 
of us, and fight sword for sword with any of us who gave 
him cause. Having drunk his courage to death, he’d now 
browse at the feet of those who give him chance to win 
his stake.” 

His words came slowly and bitingly, yet with an air of 
damnable nonchalance. I looked round me. Every man 
present was full-sprung with wine, and a distance away, 
a gentleman on either side of him, stood the Intendant, 
smiling detestably, a keen, houndlike look shooting out of 
his small round eyes. 

I had had enough; I could hear no more. To be 
baited like a bear by these Frenchmen — it was aloes in 
my teeth ! I was not sorry then that these words of 
Juste Du Varney’s gave me no chance of escape from 
fighting ; though I wished it had been any other man in 
the room than he. It was on my tongue to say that if 
some gentleman would take up his quarrel I should be 
glad to drive mine home, though for reasons I cared not 
myself to fight Duvarney. But I did not, for I knew 
that to carry that point farther might rouse a general 
thought of Alixe, and I had no wish to make matters 
hard for her. Everything in its own good time, and 
when I should be free ! So, without more ado, I said to 
him : 

“ Monsieur, the quarrel was of your choosing, not 
mine. There was no need for strife between us, and you 
have more to lose than I : more friends, more years of 


40 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


life, more hopes. I have avoided your bait, as you call it, 
for your sake, not mine own. Now I take it, and you, 
monsieur, show us what sort of fisherman you are.” 

All was arranged in a moment. As we turned to pass 
from the room to the courtyard, I noted that Bigot was 
gone. When we came outside, it was just one, as I could 
tell by a clock striking in a chamber near. It. was cold, 
and some of the company shivered as we stepped upon the 
white, frosty stones. The late October air bit the cheek, 
though now and then a warm, pungent current passed 
across the courtyard — the breath from the people’s burnt 
corn. Even yet upon the sky was the reflection of the 
fire, and distant sounds of singing, shouting, and carousal 
came to us from the Lower Town. 

We stepped to a corner of the yard and took off our 
coats ; swords were handed us — both excellent, for we had 
had our choice of many. It was partial moonlight, but 
there were flitting clouds. That we ^ should have light 
however pine torches had been brought, and these were 
stuck in the wall. My back was to the outer wall of the 
courtyard, and I saw the Intendant at a window of the 
palace looking down at us. Dbltaire stood a little apart 
from the other gentlemen in the courtyard, yet where he 
could see Duvarney and myself at advantage. 

Before we engaged, I looked intently into my op- 
ponent’s face, and measured him carefully with my eye, 
that I might have his height and figure explicit and ex- 
act ; for I know how moonlight and fire distort, how the 
eye may be deceived. I looked for every button ; for the 
spot in his lean, healthy body where I could disable him, 
spit him, and yet not kill him — for this was the thing 
furthest from my wishes, God knows. Now the deadly 
character of the event seemed to impress him, for he was 
pale, and the liquor he had drunk had given him dark 
hollows round the eyes, and a gray shining sweat was on 


THE WAGER AND THE SWORD. 


41 


his cheek. But the eyes themselves were fiery and keen 
and there was reckless daring in every turn of his body. 

I was not long in finding his quality, for he came at 
me violently from the start, and I had chance to know 
his strength and his weakness also. His hand was quick, 
his sight clear and sure, his knowledge to a certain point 
most definite and practical, his mastery of the sword de- 
lightful ; but he had little imagination, he was merely a 
brilliant performer, he did not conceive. I saw that if I 
put him on the defensive I should have him at advantage, 
for he had not that art of the true swordsman, the pre- 
scient quality which foretells the opponent’s action and 
stands prepared. There I had him at fatal advantage — 
could, I felt, give him last reward of insult at my pleas- 
ure. Yet a lust of fighting got into me, and it was diffi- 
cult to hold myself in check at all, nor was it easy to meet 
his breathless and adroit advances. 

Then, too, remarks from the bystanders worked me up 
to a deep sort of anger, and I could feel Doltaire looking 
at me with that still, cold face of his, an ironical smile 
at his lips. Now and then, too, a ribald jest came from 
some young roisterer near, and the fact that I stood alone 
among sneering enemies wound me up to a point where 
pride was more active than aught else. I began to press 
him a little, and I pricked him once. Then a singular 
feeling possessed me. I would bring this to an end when 
I had counted ten ; I would strike home when I said 
“ ten.” 

So I began, and I was not then aware that I was 
counting aloud. “ One — two — three ! ” It was weird to 
the onlookers, for the vard grew still, and you could hear 
nothing save perhaps a shifting foot or a hard breathing. 
“ Four — five — six ! ” There was a tenseness in the air, 
and Juste Duvarney, as if he felt a menace in the words, 
seemed to lose all sense of wariness, and came at me lung- 


42 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


ing, lunging with great swiftness and heat. I was in- 
censed now, and he must take what fortune might send ; 
one can not guide one’s sword to do least harm fighting 
as did we. 

I had lost blood, and the game could go on no longer. 
“ Eight ! ” I pressed him sharply now. “ Nine ! ” I 
was preparing for the trick which would end the matter, 
when I slipped on the frosty stones, now glazed with our 
tramping back and forth, and trying to recover myself 
left my side open to his sword. It .came home, though I 
partly diverted it. I was forced to my knees, but there, 
mad, unpardonable youth, he made another furious lunge 
at me. I threw myself back, deftly avoided the lunge, and 
he came plump on my upstretched sword, gave a long gasp, 
and sank down. 

At that moment the doors of the courtyard opened, 
and men stepped inside, one coming quickly forward be- 
fore the rest. It was the Governor, the Marquis de Vau- 
dreuil. He spoke, but what he said I knew not, for the 
stark upturned face of Juste Duvarney was there before 
me, there was a great buzzing in my ears, and I fell back 
into darkness. 


IV. 

THE RAT IN’ THE TRAP. 

When I waked I was alone. At first nothing was clear 
to me ; my brain was dancing in my head, my sight was 
obscured, my body painful, my senses were blunted. I 
was in darkness, yet through an open door there showed 
a light, which, from the smell and dickering, I knew to 
be a torch. This, creeping into my senses, helped me to 
remember that the last thing I saw in the Intend ant’s 
courtyard was a burning torch, which suddenly multi- 



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THE RAT IN THE TRAP. 


43 


plied to dancing hundreds and then went out. I now 
stretched forth a hand, and it touched a stone wall; I 
moved, and felt straw under me. Then I fixed my eyes 
steadily on the open door and the shaking light, and 
presently it all came to me : the events of the night, and 
that I was now in a cell of the citadel. Stirring, I found 
that the wound in my body had been bound and cared for. 
A loosely tied scarf round my arm showed that some one 
had lately left me, and would return to finish the band- 
aging. I raised myself with difficulty, and saw a basin of 
water, a sponge, bits of cloth, and a pocket-knife. Stupid 
and dazed though I was, the instinct of .self-preservation 
lived, and I picked up the knife and hid it in my coat. 
I did it, I believe, mechanically, for a hundred things 
were going through my mind at the time. 

All at once there rushed in on me the thought of 
Juste Duvarney as I saw him last — how long ago was it ? 
— his white face turned to the sky, his arms stretched 
out, his body dabbled in blood. I groaned aloud. Fool, 
fool ! to be trapped by these lying French ! To be tricked 
into playing their shameless games for them, to have a 
broken body, to have killed the brother of the mistress of 
my heart, and so cut myself off from her and ruined my 
life for nothing — for worse than nothing ! I had swag- 
gered, boasted, had taken a challenge for a bout and a 
quarrel like any hanger-on of a tavern. 

Suddenly I heard footsteps and voices outside, then 
one voice, louder than the other, saying, “ He hasn’t stirred 
a peg — lies like a log ! ” It was Gabord. 

Doltaire’s voice replied, “ You will not need a surgeon 
— no ? ” His tone, as it seemed to me, was less careless 
than usual. 

Gabord answered, “ I know the trick of it all — what 
can a surgeon do ? This brandy will fetch him to his in- 
tellects'. And by-and-bye crack’ll go his spine — aho ! ” 


44 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


You have heard a lion growling on a bone. That is 
how Gabord’s voice sounded to me then — a brutal raw- 
ness ; but it came to my mind also that this was the man 
who had brought Voban to do me service ! 

“Come, come, Gabord, crack your jaws less, and see 
you fetch him on his feet again,” said Doltaire. “ From 
the seats of the mighty they have said that he must live — 
to die another day ; and see to it, or the mighty folk will 
say that you must die to live another day — in a better 
world, my Gabord.” 

There was a moment in which the only sound was 
that of tearing linen, and I could see the shadows of the 
two upon the stone wall of the corridor wavering to the 
light of the torch; then the shadows shifted entirely, 
and their footsteps came on towards my door. I was 
lying on my back as when I came to, and, therefore, 
probably as Gabord had left me, and I determined to 
appear still in a faint. Through nearly closed eyelids 
however I saw Gabord enter. Doltaire stood in the 
doorway watching as the soldier knelt and lifted my arm 
to take off the bloody scarf. His manner was imperturba- 
ble as ever. Even then I wondered what his thoughts were, 
what pungent phrase he was suiting to the time and to 
me. I do not know to this day which more interested 
him — that very pungency of phrase, or the critical events 
which inspired his reflections. He had no sense of re- 
sponsibility ; but his mind loved talent, skill, and clever- 
ness, and though it was scathing of all usual ethics, for 
the crude, honest life of the poor it had sympathy. I 
remember remarks of his in the market-place a year be- 
fore, as he and I watched the peasant in his sabots and 
the good-wife in her homespun cloth. 

“ These are they,” said he, “ who will save the earth 
one day, for they are like it, kin to it. When they are 
born they lie close to it, and when they die they fall no 


THE RAT IN THE TRAP. 


45 


height to reach their graves. The rest — the world — are 
like ourselves in dreams : we do not walk ; we think we 
fly, over houses, over trees, over mountains; and then 
one blessed instant the spring breaks, or the dream gets 
twisted, and we go falling, falling, in a sickening fear, 
and, waking up, we And we are and have been on the 
earth all the while, and yet can make no claim upon it, and 
have no kin with it, and no right to ask anything of it — 
quelle vie — quelle vie ! ” 

Sick as I was, I thought of that as he stood there, 
looking in at me ; and though I knew 1 ought to hate 
him I admired him in spite of all. 

Presently he said to Gabord, “ YouTl come to me at 
noon to-morrow, and see you bring good news. He 
breathes ? ” 

Gabord put a hand on my chest and at my neck, and 
said at once, “ Breath for balloons — aho ! ” 

Doltaire threw a cloak over his shoulder and walked 
away, his footsteps sounding loud in the passages. Gabord 
began humming to himself as he tied the bandages, and 
then he reached down for the knife to cut the flying 
strings. I could see this out of a little corner of my 
eye. When he did not find it, he settled back on his 
haunches and looked at me. I could feel his lips puffing 
out, and I was ready for the “ Poom ! ” that came from 
him. Then I could feel him stooping over me, and his 
hot strong breath in my face. I was so near to uncon- 
sciousness at that moment by a sudden anxiety that per- 
haps my feigning had the look of reality. In any case, 
he thought me unconscious and fancied that he had taken 
the knife away with him ; for he tucked in the strings of ' 
the bandage. Then, lifting my head, he held the flask to 
my lips ; for which I was most grateful — I was dizzy and 
miserably faint. 

I think I came to with rather more alacrity than was 


46 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


wise, but he was deceived, and his first words were, “ Ho, 
ho ! the devil’s knocking ; who’s for home, angels ? ” 

It was his way to put all things allusively, using strange 
figures and metaphors. Yet, when one was used to him 
and to them, their potency seemed greater than polished 
speech and ordinary phrase. 

He offered me more brandy, and then, without preface, 
I asked him the one question which sank back on my 
heart like a load of ice even as I sent it forth. “ Is he 
alive ? ” I inquired. “ Is Monsieur J uste Duval’ney alive ? ” 
With exasperating coolness he winked an eye, to con- 
nect the event with what he knew of the letter I had sent 
to Alixe, and, cocking his head, he blew out his lips with 
a soundless laugh, and said : 

“ To whisk the brother off to heaven is to say good-bye 
to sister and pack yourself to Father Peter.” 

“ For God’s sake, tell me, is the boy dead ? ” I asked, 
my voice cracking in my throat. 

“ He’s not mounted for the journey yet,” he answered, 
with a shrug, “ but the Beast is at the door.” 

I plied my man with questions, and learned that they 
had carried Juste into the palace for dead, but found life 
in him, and straightway used all means to save him. A 
surgeon came, his father and mother were sent for, and 
when Doltaire had left there was hope that he would 
live. 

I learned also that Voban had carried word to the 
Governor of the deed to be done that night ; had for a 
long time failed to get admittance to him, but was at last 
permitted to tell his story; and Vaudreuil had gone to 
Bigot’s palace to have me hurried to the citadel, and had 
come just too late. ■ 

After answering my first questions, Gabord would say 
nothing more, and presently he took the torch from the 
wall and with a gruff good-night prepared to go. When 


THE RAT IN THE TRAP. 


47 


1 asked that a light be left he shook his head and said he 
had no orders. Whereupon he left me, the heavy door 
clanging to, the bolts were shot, and I was alone in dark- 
ness with my wounds and misery. My cloak had been put 
into the cell beside my couch, and this I now drew over me, 
and I lay and thought upon my condition and my pros- 
pects, which, as may be seen, were not cheering. I did 
not suffer great pain from my wounds — only a stiffness 
that troubled me not at all if I lay still. After an hour 
or so had passed — for it is hard to keep count of time 
when one’s thoughts are the only timekeeper — I fell 
asleep. 

I know not how long I slept, but I awoke refreshed. I 
stretched forth my uninjured arm, moving it about. In 
spite of will a sort of hopelessness went through me, for 
I could feel long blades of corn grown up about my 
couch, an unnatural meadow, springing from the earth 
floor of my dungeon. I drew the blades between my 
fingers, feeling towards them as if they were things of 
life out of place like myself. I wondered what colour 
they were. Surely, said I to myself, they can not be 
green, but rather a yellowish white, bloodless, having 
only fibre, the heart all pinched to death. Last night I 
had not noted them, yet now, looking back, I saw, as in a 
picture, Gabord the soldier feeling among them for the 
knife that I had taken. So may we see things, and yet 
not be conscious of them at the time, waking to their 
knowledge afterwards. So may we for years look upon a 
face without understanding, and then, suddenly, one day 
it comes flashing out, and we read its hidden story like 
a book. 

I put my hand out farther, then brought it back near 
to my couch, feeling towards its foot mechanically, and 
now I touched an earthen pan. A small board lay across 
its top, and moving my fingers along it I found a piece 


48 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


of bread. Then I felt the jar, and knew it was filled 
with water. Sitting back I thought hard for a moment. 
Of this I was sure : the pan and bread were not there 
when I went to sleep, for this was the spot where my 
eyes fell naturally while I lay in bed looking towards 
Doltaire ; and I should have remembered it now, even 
if I had not noted it then. My jailer had brought these 
while I slept. But it was still dark. I waked again as 
though out of sleep, startled: I was in a dungeon that 
had no window ! 

Here I was, packed away in the farthest corner of 
the citadel, in a deep hole that maybe had not been used 
for years, to be, no doubt, denied all contact with the 
outer world — I was going to say friends^ but whom could 
I name among them save that dear soul who, by last 
night’s madness, should her brother be dead, was forever 
made dumb and -blind to me ? Whom had I but her 
and Voban ! — and Voban was yet to be proved. The 
Seigneur Duvarney had paid all debts he may have 
owed me, and he now might, because of the injury to his 
son, leave me to my fate. On Gabord the soldier I could 
not count at all. 

There I was, as Doltaire had said, like a rat in a trap. 
But I would not let panic seize me. So I sat and ate the 
stale but sweet bread, took a long drink of the good water 
from the earthen jar, and then, stretching myself out, 
drew my cloak up to my chin, and settled myself for sleep 
again. And that I might keep up a kind delusion that I 
was not quite alone in the bowels of the earth I reached 
out my hand and affectionately drew the blades of corn 
between my fingers. 

Presently I drew my chin down to my shoulder, and let 
myself drift out of painful consciousness almost as easily 
as a sort of woman can call up tears at will. When I 
waked again, it was without a start or moving, without 


THE RAT IN THE TRAP. 


49 


confusioD, and I was bitterly hungry. Beside my couch, 
with his hands on his hips and his feet thrust out, stood 
Gabord, looking down at me in a quizzical and unsatisfied 
way. A torch was burning near him. 

“ Wake, my dickey-bird,” said he in his rough, mock- 
ing voice, “ and weTl snuggle you into the pot. You’ve 
been long hiding ; come out of the bush — aho ! ” 

I drew myself up painfully. “ What is the hour?” I 
asked, and meanwhile I looked for the earthen jar and 
the bread. 

“ Hour since when ? ” said he. 

“ Since it was twelve o’clock last night,” I answered. 

“ Fourteen hours since tlien^'' said he. 

The emphasis arrested my attention. “ I mean,” I 
added, “ since the fighting in the courtyard.” 

“ Thirty-six hours and more since then, m’sieu’ the 
dormouse,” was his reply. 

I had slept a day and a half since the doors of this 
cell closed on me. It was Friday then, now it was Sun- 
day afternoon. Gabord had come to me three times, and 
seeing how sound asleep I was had not disturbed me, but 
had brought bread and water — my prescribed diet. 

He stood there, his feet buried in the blanched corn — 
I could see the long yellowish-white blades — the torch 
throwing shadows about him, his back against the wall. 
I looked carefully round my dungeon. There was no 
sign of a window ; I was to live in darkness. Yet if I 
were but allowed candles, or a lantern, or a torch, some 
books, paper, pencil, and tobacco, and the knowledge that 
I had not killed Juste Duvarney, I could abide the worst 
with some sort of calmness. How much might have hap- 
pened, must have happened, in all those hours of sleep ! 
My letter to Alixe should have been delivered long ere 
this; my trial, no doubt, had been decided on. What 
had Voban done? Had he any word for me? Dear 


50 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


Lord ! here was a mass of questions tumbling one upon 
the other in my head, while my heart thumped behind 
my waistcoat like a rubber ball to a prize-fighter’s fist. 
Misfortunes may be so great and many that one may find 
grim humour and grotesqueness in their impossible con - 
junction and multiplicity. I remembered at that moment 
a friend of mine in Virginia, the most unfortunate man 1 
ever knew. Death, desertion, money losses, political de- 
feat, flood, came one upon the other all in two years, and 
coupled with this was loss of health. One day he said 
to me : 

“ Kobert, I have a perforated lung, my liver is a swell- 
ing sponge, eating crowds my waistband like a balloon, I 
have a swimming in my head and a sinking at my heart, 
and I can not say litany for happy release from these for 
my knees creak with rheumatism. The ‘devil has done 
his worst, Robert, for these are his — plague and pesti- 
lence, being final, are the will of God — and, upon my soul, 
it is an absurd comedy of ills ! ” At that he had a fit of 
coughing, and I gave him a glass of spirits, which eased 
him. 

“ That’s better,” said I cheerily to him. 

“ It’s robbing Peter to pay Paul,” he answered ; “ iov 
I owed it to my head to put the quid refert there, and 
here it’s gone to my lungs to hurry up my breathing. 
Did you ever think, Robert,” he added, “ that this breath- 
ing of ours is a labour, and that we have to work every 
second to keep ourselves alive? We have to pump air in 
and out like a blacksmith’s boy.” He said it so drolly, 
though he was deadly ill, that I laughed for half an hour 
at the stretch, wiping away my tears as I did it ; for his 
pale gray face looked so sorry, with its quaint smile and 
that odd, dry voice of his. 

As I sat there in my dungeon, with Gabord cocking 
his head and his eyes rolling, that scene flashed on me, 


THE RAT IN THE TRAP. 


51 


and I laughed freely — so much that Gabord sulkily puffed 
out his lips, and flamed like bunting on a coast-guard’s 
hut. The more he scowled and spluttered, the more I 
laughed, till my wounded side hurt me and my arm had 
twinges. But my mood changed suddenly, and I politely 
begged his pardon, telling him frankly then and there 
what had made me laugh, and how I had come to think 
of it. The flame passed out of his cheeks, the revolving 
Are of his eyes dimmed, his lips broke into a soundless 
laugh, and then, in his big voice, he said : 

“ You’ve got your knees to pray on yet, and crack my 
bones, but you’ll have need to con your penitentials if 
tattle in the town be true.” 

“ Before you tell of that,” said I, “ how is young Mon- 
sieur Duvarney? Is — is he alive?” I added, as I saw his 
look lower. 

“ The Beast was at door again last night, wild to be 
off, and foot of young Seigneur was in the stirrup, when 
along comes sister with drug got from an Indian squaw 
who nursed her when a child. She gives it him, and he 
drinks; they carry him back, sleeping, and Beast must 
stand there tugging at the leathers yet.” 

“ His sister — it was his sister,” said I, “ that brought 
him back to life ? ” 

“ Like that — aho ! They said she must not come, but 
she will have her way. Straight she goes to the palace at 
night, no one knowing but — guess who? You can’t — 
but no ! ” 

A light broke in on me. “ With the Scarlet Woman 
— with Mathilde,” I said, hoping in my heart that it was 
so, for somehow I felt even then that she, poor vagrant, 
would play a part in the history of Alixe’s life and 
mine. 

“ At the first shot,” he said. “ ’Twas the crimson one, 
as quiet as a baby chick, not hanging to ma’m’selle’s skirts, 


52 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


but watching and whispering a little now and then — and 
she there in Bigot’s palace, and he not knowing ! And 
maids do not tell him, for they knew poor wench in better 
days — aho ! ” 

I got up with effort and pain, and made to grasp his 
hand in gratitude, but he drew back, putting his arms 
behind him. 

“No, no,” said he, “lam your jailer. They’ve put 
you here to break your high spirits, and I’m to help the 
breaking.” 

“ But I thank you just the same,” 1 answered him ; 
“ and I promise to give you as little trouble as may be 
while you are my jailer — which, with all my heart, I hope 
may be as long as I’m a prisoner.” 

He waved out his hands to the dungeon walls, and 
lifted his shoulders as if to say that I might as well be 
docile, for the prison was safe enough. “Poom ! ” said 
he, as if in genial disdain of my suggestion. 

I smiled, and then, after putting my hands on the 
walls here and there to see if they were, as they seemed, 
quite dry, I drew back to my couch and sat down. Pres- 
ently I stooped to tip the earthen jar of water to my lips, 
for I could not lift it with one hand, but my humane 
jailer took it from me and held it to my mouth. When 
I had drunk, “ Do you know,” asked I as calmly as I 
could, “ if our barber gave the letter to Mademoiselle ? ” 

“ M’sieu’, you’ve travelled far to reach that question,” 
said he, jangling his keys as if he enjoyed it. “ And if 
he had ? ” 

I caught at his vague suggestion, and my heart 
leaped. 

“ A reply,” said I, “ a message or a letter,” though I 
had not dared to let myself even think of that. 

He whipped a tiny packet from his coat. “ ’Tis a 
sparrow’s pecking — no great matter here, eh?” — he 


THE RAT IN THE TRAP. 


53 


weighed it up and down on his fingers — “ a little piping 
wren’s par pitie.^'" 

I reached out for it. “ I should read it,” said he. 
“ There must be no more of this. But new orders came 
after I’d got her dainty a rrCsierC ! Yes, I must read it,” 
said he— “ but maybe not at first,” he added, “ not at first, 
if you’ll give word of honour not to tear it.” 

“ On my sacred honour,” said I, reaching out still. 

He looked it all over again provokingly, and then 
lifted it to his nose, for it had a delicate perfume. Then 
he gave a little grunt of wonder and pleasure, and handed 
it over. 

I broke the seal, and my eyes ran swiftly through the 
lines, traced in a firm, delicate hand. I could see through 
it all the fine, sound nature, by its healthy simplicity 
mastering anxiety, care, and fear. 

“ Robert,” she wrote, “ by God’s help my brother will 
live, to repent with you, I trust, of Friday night’s ill 
work. He was near gone, yet we have held him back 
from that rough-rider. Death. 

“ You will thank God, will you not, that my brother 
did not die ? Indeed, I feel you have. I do not blame 
you ; I know — I need not tell you how — the heart of the 
affair ; and even my mother can see through the wretched 
thing. My father says little, and he has not spoken 
harshly ; for which I gave thanksgiving this morning in 
the chapel of the Ursulines. Yet you are in a dungeon, 
covered with wounds of my brother’s making, both of you 
victims of others’ villainy, and you are yet to bear worse 
things, for they are to try you for your life. But never 
shall I believe that they will find you guilty of dishonour. 
I have watched you these three years ; I do not, nor ever 
will, doubt you, dear friend of my heart. 

“ You would not believe it, Robert, and you may 
5 


64 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


think it fanciful, but as I got up from my prayers at the 
chapel I looked towards a window, and it being a little 
open, for it is a sunny day, there sat a bird on the sill, a 
little brown bird that peeped and nodded. I was so won 
by it that I came softly over to it. It did not fly away, 
but hopped a little here and there. I stretched out my 
hand gently on the stone, and putting its head now this 
side, now that, at last it tripped into it, and chirped most 
sweetly. After I had kissed it I placed it back on the 
window-sill, that it might fly away again. Yet no, it 
would not go, but stayed there, tipping its gold-brown 
head at me as though it would invite me to guess why 
it came. Again I reached out my hand, and once more 
it tripped into it. I stood wondering and holding it 
to my bosom, when I heard a voice behind me say, 
‘ The bird would be with thee, my child. God hath 
many signs.’ I turned and saw the good Mere St. 
George looking at me, she of whom I was always afraid, 
so distant is she. I did not speak, but only looked at 
her, and she nodded kindly at me and passed on. 

“ And, Eobert, as I write to you here in the Intend- 
ant’s palace (what a great, wonderful place it is ! I fear 
I do not hate it and its luxury as I ought !), the bird is 
beside me in a cage upon the table, with a little window 
open, so that it may come out if it will. My brother lies 
in the bed asleep ; I can touch him if I but put out my 
hand, and I am alone save for one person. You sent two 
messengers : can you not guess the one that will be with 
me? Poor Mathilde, she sits and gazes at me till I 
almost fall weeping. But she seldom speaks, she is so 
quiet — as if she knew that she must keep a secret. For, 
Robert, though I know you did not tell her, she knows 
— she knows that you love me, and she has given me a 
little wooden cross which she says will make us happy. 

“ My mother did not drive her away, as I half feared 


THE DEVICE OF THE DORMOUSE. 


65 


she would, and at last she said that I might house her 
with one of our peasants. Meanwhile she is with me 
here. She is not so mad but that she has wisdom too, 
and she shall have my care and friendship. 

“ I bid thee to God’s care, Kobert. I need not tell 
thee to be not dismayed. Thou hast two jails, and one 
wherein I lock thee safe is warm and full of light. If the 
hours drag by, think of all thou wouldst do if thou wert 
free to go to thine own country — yet alas that thought ! 
— and of what thou wouldst say if thou couldst speak 
to thy Alixe. 

Postscript . — I trust that they have cared for thy 
wounds, and that thou hast light and food and wine. 
Voban hath promised to discover this for me. The 
soldier Gabord, at the citadel, he hath a good heart. 
Though thou canst expect no help from him, yet he will 
not be rougher than his orders. He did me a good 
service once, and he likes me, and I him. And so fare 
thee well, Robert. I will not languish ; I will act, and 
not be weary. Dost thou really love me ? ” 


V. 

THE DEVICE OF THE DORMOUSE. 

Wheh I had read the letter, I handed it up to Gabord 
without a word. A show of trust in him was the only 
thing, for he had knowledge enough of our secret to ruin 
us, if he chose. He took the letter, turned it over, look- 
ing at it curiously, and at last, with a shrug of the shoul- 
ders, passed it back. 

“ ’Tis a long tune on a dot of a fiddle,” said he, for 
indeed the letter was but a small affair in bulk. “ I’d 
need two pairs of eyes and telescope ! Is it all Heart-o’- 


56 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


my-heart, and Come-trip-in-dewy-grass— aho ? Or is 

there knave at window to bear m’sieu’ away ? ” 

I took the letter from him. “ Listen,” said I, “ to 
what the lady says of you.” And then I read him that 
part of her postscript which had to do with himself. 

He put his head on one side like a great wise magpie, 
and “ H’m — ha ! ” said he whimsically, “ aho ! Gabord 
the soldier, Gabord, thou hast a good heart — and the birds 
fed the beast with plums and froth of comfits till he died, 
and on his sugar tombstone they carved the words, ‘ Ga- 
bord had a good heart.’ ” 

“ It was spoken out of a true spirit,” said I petulantly, 
for I could not bear from a common soldier even a tone of 
disparagement, though I saw the exact meaning of his 
words. So I added, “ You shall read the whole Letter, or 
I will read it to you and you shall judge. On the honour 
of a gentleman, I will read all of it ! ” 

“ Poom ! ” said he, “ English fire-eater ! corn-cracker ! 
Show me the ‘ good heart ’ sentence, for I’d see how it is 
written — how Gabord looks with a woman’s whimsies 
round it.” 

I traced the words with my fingers, holding the letter 
near the torch. “‘Yet he will not be rougher than his 
orders,’ ” said he after me, and “ ‘ He did me a good serv- 
ice once.’ ” 

“ Comfits,” he continued ; “ well, thou shalt have com- 
fits, too,” and he fished from his pocket a parcel. It was 
my tobacco and my pipe. 

Truly, my state might have been vastly worse. Little 
more was said between Gabord and myself, but he refused 
bluntly to carry message or letter to anybody, and bade 
me not vex him with petitions. But he left me the torch 
and a flint and steel, so I had light for a space, and I had 
my blessed tobacco and pipe. When the doors clanged 
shut and the bolts were shot I lay back on my couch. 


THE DEVICE OF THE DORMOUSE. 


57 


I was not all unhappy. Thank God, they had not put 
chains on me, as Governor Dinwiddle had done with a 
French prisoner at Williamsburg, for whom I had vainly 
sought to be exchanged two years before, though he was 
my equal in all ways and importance. Doltaire was the 
cause of that, as you shall know. Well, there was one 
more item to add to his indebtedness. My face flushed 
and my Angers tingled at thought of him, and so I reso- 
lutely turned my meditations elsewhere, and again in a 
little while I seemed to think of nothing, but lay and 
bathed in the silence, and indulged my eyes with the good 
red light of the torch, inhaling its pitchy scent. I was 
conscious, yet for a time I had no thought : I was like 
something half animal, half vegetable, which feeds, yet 
has no mouth, nor sees, nor hears, nor has sense, but only 
lives. I seemed hung in space, as one feels when going 
from sleep to waking — a long lane of half-numb life, be- 
fore the open road of full consciousness is reached. 

At last I was aroused by the sudden cracking of a knot 
in the torch. I saw that it would last but a few hours 
more. I determined to put it out, for I might be allowed 
no more light, and even a few minutes of this torch every 
day would be a great boon. So I took it from its place, 
and was about to quench it in the moist earth at the foot 
of the wall, when I remembered my tobacco and my pipe. 
Can you think how joyfully I packed full the good brown 
bowl, delicately filling in every little corner, and at last 
held it to the flame, and saw it light? That first long 
whiff was like the indrawn breath of the cold, starved 
hunter, when, stepping into his house, he sees food, fire, 
and wife on his hearthstone. Presently I put out the 
torchlight, and then went back to my couch and sat down, 
the bowl shining like a star before me. 

There and then a purpose came to me — something 
which would keep my brain from wandering, my nerves 


58 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


from fretting and wearing, for a time at least. I deter- 
mined to write to my dear Alixe the true history of my 
life, even to the point — and after — of this thing which was 
bringing me to so ill a pass. But I was in darkness, I had 
no paper, pens, nor ink. After a deal of thinking I came 
at last to the solution. I would compose the story, and 
learn it by heart, sentence by sentence as I so composed it. 

So there and then I began to run back over the 
years of my life, even to my first remembrances, that I 
might see it from first to last in a sort of whole and with 
a kind of measurement. But when I began to dwell upon 
my childhood, one little thing gave birth to another 
swiftly, as you may see one flicker in the heaven multiply 
and break upon the mystery of the dark, filling the night 
with clusters of stars. As I thought, I kept drawing 
spears of the dungeon corn between my fingers softly (they 
had come to be like comrades to me), and presently there 
fiashed upon me the very first memory of my life. It 
had never come to me before, and I knew now that it was 
the beginning of conscious knowledge : for we can never 
know till we can remember. When a child remembers 
what it sees or feels it has begun life. 

I put that recollection into the letter which I wrote 
Alixe, and it shall be set down forthwith and in little 
space, though it took me so very many days and weeks to 
think it out, to give each word a fixed place, so that it 
should go from my mind no more. Every phrase of that 
story as I told it is as fixed as stone in my memory. Yet 
it must not be thought I can give all here. I shall set 
down only a few things, but you shall find in them the 
spirit of the whole. I will come at once to the body of 
the letter. 


MORAY TELLS THE STORY OP HIS LIFE. 59 


VI. 

MORAY TELLS THE STORY OF HIS LIFE. 

“ . . . I WOULD have you know of what I am and,^ 
whence I came, though I have given you glimpses in the 
past. That done, I will make plain why I am charged 
with this that puts my life in danger, which would make 
you blush that you ever knew me if it were true. And I 
will show you first a picture as it runs before me, sitting 
here, the corn of my dungeon garden twining in my 
fingers : — 

“A multiplying width of green grass spotted with 
white flowers, an upland where sheep browsed on a carpet 
of purple and gold and green, a tall rock on a hill where 
birds perched and fluttered, a blue sky arching over all. 
There, sprawling in a garden, a child pulled at long 
blades of grass, as he watched the birds flitting about the 
rocks, and heard a low voice coming down the wind. 
Here in my dungeon I can hear the voice as I have not 
heard it since that day in the year 1730 — that voice stilled 
so long ago. The air and the words come floating down 
(for the words I knew years afterwards) : 

‘ Did ye see the white cloud in the glint o’ the sun t 
That’s the brow and the eye o’ my bairnie. 

Did ye ken the red bloom at the bend o’ the crag f 
That’s the rose in the cheek o’ my bairnie. 

Did ye hear the gay lilt o’ the lark by the burn I 
That’s the voice of my bairnie, my dearie. 

Did ye smell the wild scent in the green o’ the wood I 
That’s the breath o’ my ain, 0’ my bairnie. 

Sae I’ll gang awa’ hame, to the shine o’ the fire, 

To the cot where I lie wi’ my bairnie.’ 

“ These words came crooning over the grass of that 
little garden at Balmore which was by my mother’s home. 


60 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


There I was born one day in June, though I was reared 
in the busy streets of Glasgow, where my father was 
a prosperous merchant and famous for his parts and 
honesty. 

“ I see myself, a little child of no great strength, for I 
was, indeed, the only one of my family who lived past in- 
fancy, and my mother feared she should never bring me 
up. She, too, is in that picture, tall, delicate, kind yet 
firm of face, but with a strong brow, under which shone 
grave gray eyes, and a manner so distinguished that none 
might dispute her kinship to the renowned Montrose, 
who was lifted so high in dying, though his gallows was 
but thirty feet, that all the world has seen him there. 
There was one other in that picture, standing near my 
mother, and looking at me, who dften used to speak of 
our great ancestor — my grandfather, John Mitchell, the 
Gentleman of Balmore, as he was called, out of regard for 
his ancestry and his rare merits. 

“ I have him well in mind : his black silk breeches 
and white stockings and gold seals, and two eyes that 
twinkled with great humour when, as he stooped over me, 
I ran my head between his calves and held him tight. I 
recall how my mother said, ‘ I doubt that I shall ever 
bring him up,’ and how he replied (the words seem to 
come through great distances to me), ‘ He’ll live to be 
Montrose the second, rascal laddie ! Four seasons at the 
breast ? Tut, tut ! what o’ that ! ’Tis but his foolery, 
his scampishness ! Nae, nae ! his epitaph’s no for writ- 
ing till you and I are tucked i’ the sod, my Jeanie. Then, 
like Montrose’s, it will be — 

‘ Tull Edinburrow they led him thair, 

And on a gallows hong ; 

They hong him high abone the rest, 

He was so trim a boy/ 


MORAY TELLS THE STORY OF HIS LIFE. 61 


“ I can hear his laugh this minute, as he gave an ac- 
cent to the words by stirring me with his stick, and I 
caught the gold head of it and carried it off, trailing it 
through the garden, till I heard my mother calling, and 
then forced her to give me chase, as I pushed open a little 
gate and posted away into that wide world of green, com- 
ing quickly to the river, where I paused and stood at bay. 
I can see my mother’s anxious face now, as she caught me 
to her arms ; and yet I know she had a kind of pride, too, 
when my grandfather said, on our return, ‘ The rascal’s at 
it early. Next time he’ll ford the stream and skirl at ye, 
Jeanie, from yonner bank.’ 

“ This is the first of my life that I remember. It may 
seem strange to you that I thus suddenly recall not only 
it, but the words then spoken too. It is strange to me, 
also. But here it comes to me all on a sudden in this 
silence, as if another self of me were speaking from far 
places. At first all is in patches and confused, and then 
it folds out — if not clearly, still so I can understand— and 
the words I repeat come as if filtered through many brains 
to mine. I do not say that it is true— it may be dreams ; 
and yet, as I say, it is firmly in my mind. 

“The next that I remember was climbing upon a 
chair to reach for my grandfather’s musket, which hung 
across the chimney. I 'got at last upon the mantelshelf, 
and my hands were on the weapon, when the door opened, 
and my grandfather and my father entered. I was so 
busy I did not hear them till I was caught by the legs 
and swung to a shoulder, where I sat kicking. ‘ You see 
his tastes, William,’ said my grandfather to my father ; 
‘ he’s white o’ face and slim o’ body, but he’ll no carry on 
your hopes.’ And more he said to the point, though 
what it was I knew not. But I think it to have been 
suggestion (I heard him say it later) that I would bring 
Glasgow up to London by the sword (good doting soul !) 


62 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


as my father brought it by manufactures, gaining honour 
thereby. 

“ However that may be, I would not rest till my 
grandfather had put the musket into my arms. I could 
scarcely lift it, but from the first it had a charm for me, 
and now and then, in spite of my mother’s protests, I 
was let to handle it, to learn its parts, to burnish it, and 
by-and-bye — I could not have been more than six years 
old — to rest it on a rock and fire it off. It kicked my 
shoulder roughly in firing, but I know I did not wink as 
I pulled the trigger. Then I got a wild hunger to fire it 
at all times ; so much so, indeed, that powder and shot 
were locked up, and the musket was put away in my 
grandfather’s chest. But now and again it was taken 
out, and I made war upon the unresisting hillside, to 
the dismay of our neighbours in Balmore. Feeding the 
fever in my veins, my grandfather taught me soldiers’ 
exercises and the handling of arms : to my dear mother’s 
sorrow, for she ever fancied me as leading a merchant’s 
quiet life like my father’s, hugging the hearthstone, and 
finding joy in small civic duties, while she and my dear 
father sat peacefully watching me in their decline of 
years. 

“ I have told you of that river which flowed near my 
father’s house. At this time most of my hours were 
spent by it in good weather, for at last my mother came 
to trust me alone there, having found her alert fears of 
little use. But she would very often come with me and 
watch me as I played there. I loved to fancy myself a 
miller, and my little mill-wheel, made by my own hands, 
did duty here and there on the stream, and many drives 
of logs did I, in fancy, saw into piles of lumber, and loads 
of flour sent away to the City of Desire. Then, again, I 
made bridges, and drove mimic armies across them ; and 
if they were enemies, craftily let them partly cross, to 


MORAY TELLS THE STORY OF HIS LIFE. 63 


tumble them in at the moment when part of the forces 
were on one side of the stream and part on the other, and 
at the mercy of my men. 

“ My grandfather taught me how to build forts and 
breastworks, and I lay in ambush for the beadle, who was 
my good friend, for my grandfather, and for half a dozen 
other village folk, who took no offence at my sport, but 
made believe to be bitterly afraid when I surrounded 
them and drove them, shackled, to my fort by the river. 
Little by little the fort grew, until it was a goodly pile ; 
for now and then a village youth helped me, or again an 
old man, whose heart, maybe, rejoiced to play at being 
(*,hild again with me. Years after, whenever I went back 
to Balmore, there stood the fort, for no one ever meddled 
with it, or tore it down. 

“And I will tell you one reason why this was, and 
you will think it strange that it should have played such 
a part in the history of the village, as in my own life. 
You must know th^t people living in secluded places are 
mostly superstitious. Well, when my fort was built to 
such proportions that a small ladder must be used to fix 
new mud and mortar in place upon it, something hap- 
pened. 

“ Once a year there came to Balmore — and he had 
done so for a generation — one of those beings called The 
Men, who are given to prayer, fasting, and prophesying, 
who preach the word of warning ever, calling even the 
ministers of the Lord sharply to account. One day this 
Man came past my fort, folk with him, looking for preach- 
ing or prophecy from him. Suddenly turning he came 
inside my fort, and, standing upon the ladder against the 
wall, spoke to them fervently. His last words became a 
legend in Balmore, and spread even to Glasgow and be- 
yond. 

“‘Hear me!’ cried he. ‘As I stand looking at ye 


64 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


from this wall, calling on ye in your natural bodies to take 
refuge in the Fort of God, the Angel of Death is look- 
ing ower the battlements of heaven, choosing ye out, the 
sheep frae the goats ; calling the one to burning flames, 
and the other into peaceable habitations. I hear the 
voice now,’ cried he, ‘ and some soul among us goeth 
forth. Flee ye to the Fort of Kefuge ! ’ I can see him 
now, his pale face shining, his eyes burning, his beard 
blowing in the wind, his grizzled hair shaking on his 
forehead. I had stood within the fort watching him. 
At last he turned, and, seeing me intent, stooped, caught 
me by the arms, and lifted me upon the wall. ‘ See you,’ 
said he, ‘ yesterday’s babe a warrior to-day. Have done, 
have done, ye quarrelsome hearts. Ye that build forts 
here shall lie in darksome prisons ; there is no fort but 
the Fort of God. The call comes frae the white ram- 
parts. Hush!’ he added solemnly, raising a Anger. 
‘ One of us goeth hence this day ; are ye ready to walk i’ 
the fearsome valley ? ’ , 

“I have heard my mother speak these words over 
often, and they were, as I said, like an old song in Bal- 
more and Glasgow. He set me down, and then walked 
away, waving the frightened people back ; and there was 
none of them that slept that night. 

“Mow comes the stranger thing. In the morning 
The Man was found dead in my little fort, at the foot of 
the wall. Henceforth the spot was sacred, and I am sure 
it stands there as when last I saw it twelve years ago, but 
worn away by rains and winds. 

Again and again my mother said over to me his words, 
‘ Ye that build forts here shall lie in darksome prisons ’ ; 
for always she had fear of the soldier’s life,* and she was 
moved by signs and dreams. 

But this is how the thing came to shape my life : 

“ About a year after The Man died, there came to my 


MORAY TELLS THE STORY OP HIS LIFE. 65 


grandfather’s house, my mother and I being present, a 
gentleman, by name Sir John Godric, and he would have 
my mother tell the whole story of The Man. That being 
done, he said that The Man was his brother, who had 
been bad and wild in youth, a soldier; but repenting had 
gone as far the other way, giving up place and property, 
and cutting off from all his kin. 

“ This gentleman took much notice of me and said 
that he should be glad to see more of me. And so he 
did, for in the years that followed he would visit at our 
home in Glasgow when I was at school, or at Balmore 
until my grandfather died. ^ 

“My father liked Sir John greatly, and they grew 
exceeding friendly, walking forth in the streets of Glas- 
gow, Sir John’s hand upon my father’s arm. One day 
they came to the school in High Street, where 1 learned 
Latin and other accomplishments, together with fencing 
from an excellent master. Sergeant Dowie of the One 
Hundredth Foot. They found me with my regiment at 
drill ; for I had got full thirty of my school-fellows under 
arms, and spent all leisure hours in mustering, marching, 
and drum-beating, and practising all manner of discipline 
and evolution which I had been taught by my grandfather 
and Sergeant Dowie. 

“ Those were the days soon after which came Dettin- 
gen and Fontenoy and Charles Edward the Pretender, and 
the ardour of arms ran high. Sir John was a follower of 
the Stuarts, and this was the one point at which he and 
my father paused in their good friendship. When Sir 
John saw me with my thirty lads marching in fine or- 
der, all fired with the little sport of battle — for to me it 
was all real, and our sham fights often saw broken heads 
and bruised shoulders — he stamped his cane upon the 
ground, and said in a big voice, ‘ Well done! well done! 
For that you shall have a hundred pounds next birthday, 


66 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


and as fine a suit of scarlet as you please, and a sword 
from London, too.’ 

“ Then he came to me and caught me by both shoul- 
ders. ‘But alack, alack! there needs some blood and 
fiesh here, Robert Moray,’ said he. ‘You have more 
heart than muscle.’ 

This was true. I had ever been more eager than my 
strength — thank God, that day is gone ! — and sometimes, 
after Latin and the drill of my Lightfoots, as I called 
them, I could have cried for weakness and weariness had 
I been a girl and not a proud lad. And Sir John kept his 
word, liking me better from that day forth, and coming 
now and again to see me at the school, — though he was 
much abroad in France — giving many a pound to my 
Lightfoots, who were no worse soldiers for that. His eye 
ran us over sharply, and his head nodded, as we marched 
past him ; .and once I heard him say, ‘ If they had had 
but ten years each on their heads, my Prince ! ’ 

“ About this time my father died — that is, when I was 
fourteen years old. Sir John became one of the execu- 
tors with my mother, and at my wish, a year afterwards, I 
was sent to the university, where at least fifteen of my 
Lightfoots went also ; and there 1 formed a new battalion 
of them, though we were watched at first, and even held 
in suspicion, because of the known friendship of Sir John 
for me ; and he himself had twice been under arrest for 
his friendship to the Stuart cause. That he helped Prince 
Charles was clear: his estates were mortgaged to the 
hilt. 

“ He died suddenly on that day of January when Cub 
loden was fought, before he knew of the defeat of the 
Prince. I was with him at the last. After some seri- 
ous business, which I shall come to by-and-bye, ‘ Robert,’ 
said he, ‘ I wish thou hadst been with my Prince. When 
thou becomest a soldier, fight where thou hast heart to 


MORAY TELLS THE STORY OF HIS LIFE. 67 

fight ; but if thou hast conscience for it, let it be with 
a Stuart. I thought to leave thee a good moiety of my 
fortune, Robert, but little that’s free is left for giving. 
Yet thou hast something from thy father, and down in 
Virginia, where my friend Dinwiddie is Governor, there’s 
a plantation for thee, and a purse of gold, which was 
for me in case I should have cause to fiee this troubled 
realm. But I need it not ; I go for refuge to my Father’s 
house. The little vineyard and the purse of gold are for 
thee, Robert. If thou thinkest well of it, leave this sick 
land for that new one. Build thyself a name in that 
great young country, wear thy sword honourably and 
bravely, use -thy gifts in council and debate — for Din- 
widdie will be thy friend — and think of me as one who 
would have been a father to thee if he could. Give thy 
good mother my loving farewells. . . . Forget not to 
wear my sword — it has come from the first King Charles 
himself, Robert.’ 

After which he raised himself upon his elbow and said, 
‘Life — life, is it so hard to untie the knot?' Then a 
twinge of agony crossed over his face, and afterwards 
came a great clearing and peace, and he was gone. 

“ King George’s soldiers entered with a warrant for 
him even as he died and the same moment dropped their 
hands upon my shoulder. I was kept in durance for 
many days, and was not even at the funeral of my bene- 
factor ; but through the efforts of the provost of the uni- 
versity and some good friends who could vouch for my 
loyal principles I was released. But my pride had got a 
setback, and I listened with patience to my mother’s 
prayers that I would not join the King’s men. With the 
anger of a youth, I now blamed his Majesty for the acts 
of Sir John Godric’s enemies. And though I was a good 
soldier of the King at heart, I would not serve him hence- 
forth. We threshed matffers back and forth, and pres- 


68 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


ently it was thought I should sail to Virginia to take 
over my estate. My mother urged it, too, for she be- 
lieved if I were weaned from my old comrades, military 
fame would no longer charm. So she urged me, and go I 
did, with a commission from some merchants of Glasgow, 
to give my visit to the colony more weight. 

“ It was great pain to leave my mother, but she bore 
the parting bravely, and away I set in a good ship. Ar- 
rived in Virginia, I was treated with great courtesy in 
Williamsburg, and the Governor gave me welcome to his 
home for the sake of his old friend ; and yet a little for 
rny own, I think, for we were of one temper, though he 
was old and I young. We were both full of impulse 
and proud and given to daring hard things, and my mili- 
tary spirit suited him. 

“ In Virginia I spent a gay and busy year, and came off 
very well with the rough but gentlemanly cavaliers, who 
rode through the wide, sandy streets of the capital on ex- 
cellent horses, or in English coaches, with a rusty sort of 
show and splendour, but always with great gallantry. 
The freedom of the life charmed me, and with rumours 
of war with the French there seemed enough to do, 
whether with the sword or in the House of Burgesses, 
where Governor Dinwiddie said his say with more force' 
than complaisance. So taken was I with the life — my first 
excursion into the wide working world — that I delayed 
my going back to Glasgow, the more so that some matters 
touching my property called for action by the House of 
Burgesses, and I had to drive the affair to the end. Sir 
John had done better by me than he thought, and I 
thanked him over and over again for his good gifts. 

“ Presently I got a letter from my father’s old partner 
to say that my dear mother was ill. I got back to Glas- 
gow only in time— but how glad I was of that !— to hear 
her last words. When my mother was gone I turned 


MORAY TELLS THE STORY OF HIS LIFE. 69 


towards Virginia with longing, for I could not so soon go 
against her wishes and join the King’s army on the Conti- 
nent, and less desire had I to be a Glasgow merchant. 
Gentlemen merchants had better times in Virginia. So 
there was a winding-up of the estate, not greatly to my pleas- 
ure ; for it was found that by unwise ventures my father’s 
partner had perilled the whole and lost part of the property. 
But as it was, I had a competence and several houses in 
Glasgow, and I set forth to Virginia with a goodly sum of 
money and a shipload of merchandise, which I should sell 
to merchants, if it chanced I should become a planter 
only. I was warmly welcomed by old friends and by the 
Governor and his family, and I soon set up an establish- 
ment of my own in Williamsburg, joining with a merchant 
there in business, while my land was worked by a neigh- 
bouring planter. 

“ Those were hearty days, wherein I made little money, 
but had much pleasure in the giving and taking of civili- 
ties, in throwing my doors open to acquaintances, and 
with my young friend, Mr. Washington, laying the foun- 
dation for a Virginian army, by drill and yearly duty in 
camp, with occasional excursions against the Indians. I 
saw very well what the end of our troubles with the 
French would be, and I waited for the time when I 
should put to keen use the sword Sir John Godric had 
given me. Life beat high then, for I was in the first fiush 
of manhood, and the spirit of a rich new land was waking 
in us all, while in our vanity we held to and cherished forms 
and customs that one would have thought to see left be- 
hind in London streets and drawing-rooms. These things, 
these functions in a small place, kept us a little vain and 
proud, but, I also hope, it gave us some sense of civic duty. 

“ And now I come to that which will, comrade of my 
heart, bring home to your understanding what lies behind 
the charges* against me ; 

6 


70 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


“ Trouble came between Canada and Virginia. Major 
Washington, one Captain Mackaye, and myself marched 
out to the Great Meadows, where at Fort Necessity we 
surrendered, after hard fighting, to a force three times our 
number. I, with one Captain Van Braam, became a host- 
age. Monsieur Coulon Villiers, the French commander, 
gave his bond that we should be delivered up when an 
officer and two cadets, who were prisoners with us, should 
be sent on. It was a choice between Mr. Mackaye of the 
Kegulars and Mr. Washington, or Mr. Van Braam and 
myself. I thought of what would be best for the country ; 
and besides. Monsieur Coulon Villiers pitched upon my 
name at once, and held to it. So I gave up my sword to 
Charles Bedford, my lieutenant, with more regret than I 
can tell, for it was sheathed in memories, charging him to 
keep it safe — that he would use it worthily I knew. And 
so, sorrowfully bidding my friends good-by, away we went 
upon the sorry trail of captivity, arriving in due time at 
Fort Du Quesne, at the junction of the Ohio and the 
Monongahela, where I was courteously treated. There I 
bettered my French and made the acquaintance of some 
ladies from Quebec city, who took pains to help me with 
their language. 

“ Now, there was one lady to whom I talked with some 
freedom of my early life and of Sir John Godric. She 
was interested in all, but when I named Sir John she be- 
came at once impressed, and .1 told her of his great attach- 
ment to Prince Charles. More than once she returned to 
the subject, begging me to tell her more ; and so I did, 
still, however, saying nothing of certain papers Sir John 
had placed in my care. A few weeks after the first occa- 
sion of my speaking, there was a new arrival at the fort. 
It was — can you guess ? — Monsieur Doltaire. The night 
after his coming he visited me in my quarters, and after 
courteous passages, of which I need not speak, he sud- 


MORAY TELLS THE STORY OF HIS LIFE. 71 


denly said, ‘ You have the papers of Sir John Godric — 
those bearing on Prince Charles’s invasion of England ? ’ 

“ I was stunned by the question, for I could not guess 
his drift or purpose, though presently it dawned upon 
me. — Among the papers were many letters from a great 
lady in France, a growing rival with La Pompadour in 
the counsels and favour of the King. She it was who 
had a secret passion for Prince Charles, and these letters 
to Sir John, who had been with the Pretender at Ver- 
sailles, must prove her ruin if produced. I had promised 
Sir John most solemnly that no one should ever have 
them while I lived, except the great lady herself, that I 
would give them to her some time, or destroy them. It 
was Doltaire’s mission to get these letters, and he had 
projected a visit to Williamsburg to see me, having just 
arrived in Canada, after a search for me in Scotland, 
when word came from the lady gossip at Fort Du 
Quesne (with whom he had been on most familiar terms 
in Quebec) that I was there. 

“ When I said I had the papers, he asked me lightly 
for ‘ those compromising letters,’ remarking that a good 
price would be paid, and adding my liberty as a pleasant 
gift. I instantly refused, and told him I would not be 
the weapon of La Pompadour against her rival. With 
cool persistence he begged me to think again, for much 
depended on my answer. 

“ ‘ See, monsieur le capitaine,’ said he, ‘ this little 
affair at Fort Necessity, at which you became a hostage, 
shall or shall not be a war between England and France 
as you shall dispose.’ When I asked him how that was, 
he said, ‘ First, will you swear that you will not, to aid 
yourself, disclose what I tell you? You can see that 
matters will be where they were an hour ago in any case.’ 

“ I agreed, for I could act even if I might not speak. 
So I gave my word. Then he told me that if those letters 


72 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


were not put into his hands, La Pompadour would be 
enraged, and fretful and hesitating now would join Aus- 
tria against England, since in this provincial war was 
convenient cue for battle. If I gave up the letters, she 
would not stir, and the disputed territory between us 
should be by articles seded by the French. 

“ I thought much and long, during which he sat'smok- 
ing and humming, and seeming to care little how my 
answer went. At last I turned on him, and told him I 
would not give up the letters, and if a war must hang 
on a whim of malice, then, by God’s help, the rightness 
of our cause would be our strong weapon to bring France 
to her knees. 

“ ‘ That is your final answer ? ’ asked he, rising, fin- 
gering his lace, and viewing himself in a looking-glass 
upon the wall. 

“ ‘ I will not change it now or ever,’ answered 1. 

“ ‘ Ever is a long time,’ retorted he, as one might 
speak to a wilful child. ‘ You shall have time to 
think and space for reverie. For if you do not grant this 
trifie you shall no more see your dear Virginia ; and 
when the time is ripe you shall go forth to a better land 
as the Grande Marquise shall give you carriage.’ 

“ ‘ The Articles of Capitulation ! ’ I broke out pro- 
testingly. 

“ He waved his fingers at me. ‘ Ah, that,’ he rejoined ' 
• — ‘that is a matter for conning. You are a hostage. 
Well, we need not take any wastrel or nobody the English 
offer in exchange for you. Indeed, why should we be 
content with less than a royal duke ? For you are worth 
more to us just now than any prince we have ; at least so 
says the Grande Marquise. Is your mind quite firm to 
refuse ? ’ he added, nodding his head in a bored sort of 
way. 

“ ‘ Entirely,’ said I. ‘ I will not part with those letters,’ 


MORAY TELLS THE STORY OF HIS LIFE. 73 

“ ‘ But think once again,’ he urged ; the gain of terri- 
tory to Virginia, the peace between our countries ! ’ 

“‘Folly!’ returned 1. ‘I know well you overstate 
the case. You turn a small intrigue into a game of na- 
tions. Yours is a schoolboy’s tale. Monsieur Doltaire.’ 

“ ‘ You are something of an ass,’ he mused, and took 
a pinch of snuff. 

“ ‘ And you — you have no name,’ retorted I. 

“ I did not know, when I spoke, how this might strike 
home in two ways or I should not have said it. I had 
not meant, of course, that he was King Louis’s illegiti- 
mate son. 

“ ‘ There is some truth in that,’ he replied patiently, 
though a red spot flamed high on his cheeks. ‘ But 
some men need no christening for their distinction, and 
others win their names with proper weapons. I am not 
here to quarrel with you. I am acting in a large affair 
not in a small intrigue ; a century of fate may hang 
on this. Come with me,’ he added. ‘ You doubt my 
power, maybe.’ 

“ He opened the door of the cell, and I followed him 
out, past the storehouse and the officers’ apartments, to 
the drawbridge. Standing in the shadow by the gate he 
took keys from his pocket. ‘ Here,’ said he, ‘ are what 
will set you free. This fort is all mine : I act for France. 
Will you care to free yourself? You shall have escort to 
your own people. You see I am most serious,’ he added, 
laughing lightly. ‘ It is not my way to sweat or worry. 
You and I hold war and peace in our hands. Which 
shall it be ? In this trouble France or England will be 
mangled. It tires one to think of it when life can be so 
easy. Now, for the last time,’ he urged, holding out the 
keys. ‘ Your word of honour that the letters shall be 
mine — eh ? ’ 

“ ‘Never,’ I concluded. ‘England and France are in 


Y4 tue seats op the mighty. 

» 

greater hands than yours or mine. The God of battles 
still stands beside the balances.’ 

“ He shrugged a shoulder. ‘ Oh, well,’ said he, ‘ that 
ends it. It will be interesting to watch the way of the 
God of battles. Meanwhile you travel to Quebec. Re- 
member that however free you may appear you will have 
watchers, that when you seem safe you will be in most 
danger, that in the end we will have those letters or your 
life ; that meanwhile the war will go on, that you shall 
have no share in it, and that the whole power of England 
will not be enough to set her hostage free. That is all 
there is to say, I think. . . . Will you lift^ a glass of wine 
with me ? ’ he added courteously, waving a hand towards 
the commander’s quarters. » 

“I assented, for why, thought I, should there be a 
personal quarrel between us? We talked on many things' 
for an hour or more, and his I found the keenest mind 
that ever I have met. There was in him a dispassionate- 
ness, a breadth, which seemed most strange in a trifler of 
the Court, in an exquisite — for such he was. I sometimes 
think that his elegance and flippancy were deliberate, lest 
he should be taking himself or life too seriously. His in- 
telligence charmed me, held me, and, later, as we travelled 
up to Quebec, I found my journey one long feast of inter- 
est. He was never dull, and his cynicism had an admirable 
grace and cordiality. A born intriguer, he still was above 
intrigue, justifying it on the basis that life was all sport. 
In logic a leveller, praising the moles, as he called them, 
the champion of the peasant, the apologist for the bour- 
geois — who always, he said, had civic virtues— he never- 
theless held that what was was best, that it could not be 
altered, and that it was all interesting. ‘ I never repent,’ 
he said to me one day. ‘I have done after my nature, in 
the sway and impulse of our time, and as the King has 
said. After us the deluge. What a pity it is we shall see 


MORAY TELLS THE STORY OF HIS LIFE. 75 

neither the flood nor the ark ! And so, when all is done, 
we shall miss the most interesting thing of all : ourselves 
dead and the gap and ruin we leave behind us. By that, 
from my standpoint,’ he would add, ‘life is a failure as a 
spectacle.’ 

“ Talking in this fashion and in a hundred other ways, 
we came to Quebec. And you know in general what 
happened. I met your honoured father, whose life I had 
saved on the Ohio some years before, and he worked for 
my comfort in my bondage. You know how exchange 
after exchange was refused, and that for near three years 
I have been here, fretting my soul out, eager to be fight- 
ing in our cause, yet tied hand and foot, wasting time 
and losing heart, idle in an enemy’s country. As Doltaire 
said, war was declared, but not till he had made here in 
Quebec last efforts to get those letters. I do not complain 
so bitterly of these lost years, since they have brought 
me the best gift of my life, your love and friendship ; but 
my enemies here, commanded from France, have bided 
their time, till an accident has given them a cue to dis- 
pose of me without openly breaking the accepted law of 
nations. They could not decently hang a hostage, for 
whom they had signed articles ; hut they have got their 
chance, as they think, to try me for a spy. 

“ Here is the case. When I found that they were de- 
termined and had ever determined to violate their articles, 
that they never intended to set me free, I felt absolved 
from my duty as an officer on parole, and I therefore se- 
cretly sent to Mr. Washington in Virginia a plan of Fort 
Du Quesne and one of Quebec. I knew that I was risking 
my life by so doing, but that did not deter me. By my 
promise to Doltaire, I could n^t tell of the matter between 
us, and whatever he has done in other ways, he has pre- 
served my life ; for it would have been easy to have me 
dropped off by a stray bullet, or to have accidentally 


76 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


drowned me in the St. Lawrence. I believe this matter of 
the letters to be between myself and him and Bigot — 
and perhaps not even Bigot, though surely he must know 
that La Pompadour has some peculiar reason for interest- 
ing herself in a poor captain of provincials. You now can 
see another motive for the duel which was brought about 
between your brother and myself. 

My plans and letters were given by Mr. Washington to 
General Braddock, and the sequel you know : they have 
fallen into the hands of my enemies, copies have gone to 
France, and I am to be tried for my life. Preserving 
faith with my enemy Doltaire, I can not plead the real 
cause of my long detention ; I can only urge that they had 
not kept ^0 their articles, and that I, therefore, was free 
from the obligations of parole. I am sure they have no 
intention of giving me the benefit of any doubt. My real 
hope lies in escape and the intervention of England, though 
my country, alas ! has not concerned herself about me, as 
if indeed she resented the non-delivery of those letters to 
Doltaire, since they were addressed to one she looked on 
as a traitor, and held by one whom she had unjustly put 
under suspicion. 

“ So, dear Alixe, from that little fort on the banks of 
the river Kelvin have come these sfrange twistings of my 
life, and I can date this dismal fortune of a dungeon from 
the day The Man made his prophecy from the wall of my 
mud fort. 

“ Whatever comes now, if you have this record, you 
will know the private history of my life. ... I have told 
all, with unpractised tongue, but with a wish to be under- 
stood, and to set forth a story of which the letter should 
be as true as the spirit. Friend beyond all price to me, 
some day this tale will reach your hands, and I ask you to 
house it in your heart, and, whatever comes, let it be for 
m^ remembrance, God be with you^ and farewell | ” 


QUOTH LITTLE GARAINE.’ 


77 


VII. 

“QUOTH LITTLE GARAINE.” 

I HAVE given the story here as though it had been 
thought out and written that Sunday afternoon which 
brought me good news of Juste Duvarney. But it was 
not so. I did not choose to break the run of the tale 
to tell of other things and of the passing of time. The 
making took me many, many weeks, and in all that 
time I had seen no face but Gabord’s, and heard no 
voice but his as he came twice a day to bring me bread 
and water. He would answer no questions concerning 
Juste Duvarney, or Voban, or Monsieur Doltaire^ nor tell 
me anything of what was forward in the town. He had 
had his orders precise enough he said. At the end of 
all my hints and turnings and approaches, stretching 
himself up, and turning the corn about with his foot 
(but not crushing it, for he saw that I prized the poor 
little comrades), he would say : 

“ Snug, snug, quiet and warm ! The cosiest nest in 
the world — aho ! ” 

There was no coaxing him, and at last I desisted. I 
had no light. With resolution I set my mind to see in 
spite of the dark, and at the end of a month I was able 
to note the outlines of my dungeon ; nay, more, I was 
able to see my little field of corn ; and at last what joy 
I had when, hearing a little rustle near me, I looked 
closely and beheld a mouse running across the floor ! I 
straightway began to scatter crumbs of bread, that it might, 
perhaps, come near me — as at last it did. 

I have not spoken at all of my wounds, though they 
gave me many painful hours, and I had no attendance 
but my own and Gabord’s. The wound in my side was 
long healing, for it w^s more easily disturbed as I turned 


78 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


in my sleep, while I could ease my arm at all times, and 
it came on slowly. My sufferings drew on my flesh, mj 
blood, and my spirits, and to this was added that disease 
inaction, the corrosion of solitude, and the fever of sus- 
pense and uncertainty as to Alixe and Juste Duvarney. 
Every hour, every moment that I had ever passed in Alixe’s 
presence, with many little incidents and scenes in which 
we shared, passed before me — vivid and cherished pictures 
of the mind. One of those incidents I will set down here. 

A year or so before, soon after Juste Duvarney came 
from Montreal, he brought in one day from hunting a 
young live hawk, and put it in a cage. When I came 
the next morning, Alixe met me, and asked me to see 
what he had brought. There, beside the kitchen door, 
overhung with morning-glories and flanked by holly- 
hocks, was a large green cage, and in it the gray-brown 
hawk. “ Poor thing, poor prisoned thing ! ” she said. 
“ Look how strange and hunted it seems ! See how its 
feathers stir ! And those flashing, watchful eyes, they 
seem to read through you, and to say, ‘ Who are you ? 
What do you want with me? Your world is not my 
world ; your air is not my air ; your homes are holes, 

and mine hangs high up between you and God. Who 

are you ? Why do you pen me ? You have shut me in 
that I may not travel not even die out in the open 
world. All the world is mine; yours is only a stolen 

fleld. Who are you? What do you want with me? 

There is a fire within my head, it eats to my eyes, and 
I burn away. What do you want with me ? ’ ” 

She did not speak these words all at once as I have 
written them here, but little by little, as we stood there 
talking beside the cage. Yet, as she talked with me, her 
mind was on the bird, her fingers running up and down 
the cage bars soothingly, her voice now and again inter- 
jecting soft reflections and exclamations. 


QUOTH LITTLE GARAINE.’ 


79 


“ Shall I set it free ? ” I asked her. 

She turned upon me and replied, “ Ah, monsieur, I 
hoped you would— without my asking. You are a pris- 
oner too,” she added ; “ one captive should feel for an- 
other.” 

‘ And the freeman for both,” I answered meaningly, 
as I softly opened the cage. 

She did not drop her eyes, hut raised them shining 
honestly and frankly to mine, and said, “ I wished you to 
think that.” 

Opening the cage door wide, I called the little cap- 
tive to freedom. But while we stood close by it would 
not stir, and the look in its eyes became wilder. I moved 
away, and Alixe followed me. Standing beside an old 
well we waited and watched. Presently the hawk dropped 
from the perch, hopped to the door, then with a wild 
spring was gone, up, up, up, and was away over the maple 
woods beyond, lost in the sun and the good air. 

I know not quite why I dwell on this scene, save that 
it throws some little light upon her nature, and shows 
how simple and yet deep she was in soul, and what was 
the fashion of our friendship. But I can perhaps give a 
clearer insight of her character if I here set down the sub- 
stance of a letter written about that time, which came into 
my possession long afterwards. It was her custom to 
write her letters first in a book, and afterwards to copy 
them for posting. This she did that they might be an 
impulse to her friendships and a record of her feelings. 

Alixe Duvarney to Lucie LotbiniIire. 

Quebec City, the 10th of May, 1756, 

My dear Lucie : I wish I knew how to tell you all 
I have been thinking since we parted at the door of the 
Ursulines a year ago. Then we were going to meet again 
in a few weeks, and now twelve months have gone ! How 


80 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


have I spent them ? Not wickedly, I hope, and yet some- 
times I wonder if Mere St. George would quite approve 
of me ; for I have wild spirits now and then, and I 
shout and sing in the woods and along the river as if I 
were a mad youngster home from school. But indeed, 
that is the way I feel at times, though again I am so quiet 
that I am frightened of myself. I am a hawk to-day and 
a mouse to-morrow, and fond of pleasure all the time. Ah, 
what good days I have had with Juste ! You remember 
him before he went to Montreal ? He is gay, full of 
fancies, as brave as can be, and plays and sings well, but he 
is very hot-headed, and likes to play the tyrant. We have 
some bad encounters now and then. But we love each 
other better for it ; he respects me, and he does not be- 
come spoiled, as you will see when you come to us. 

I have had no society yet. My mother thinks seventeen 
years too few to warrant my going into the gay world. I 
wonder will my wings be any stronger, will there be less 
danger of scorching them at twenty-six ? Years do not 
make us wise ; one may be as wise at twenty as at fifty. 
And they do not save us from the scorching. I know 
more than they guess how cruel the world may be to the 
innocent as to — the other. One can not live within sight 
of the Intendant’s palace and the Chateau St. Louis with- 
out learning many things; and, for myself, though I 
hunger for all the joys of life, I do not fret because my 
mother holds me back from the gay doings in the town. 
I have my long walks, my fishing and rowing, and some- 
times shooting, with Juste and my sister Georgette, my 
drawing, painting, music, needlework, and my housework^ 

Yet I am not entirely happy, I do not know quite 
why. Do you ever feel as if there were some sorrow far 
back in you, which now and then rushed in and fiooded 
your spirits, and then drew back, and you could not give 
it a name? Well, that is the way with me. Yesterday, 


QUOTH LITTLE GARAlNE.^ 


81 


as I stood in the kitchen beside our old cook Jovin, she 
said a kind word to me, and my eyes filled, and I ran up 
to my room, and burst into tears as I lay upon my bed. 
I could not help it. I thought at first it was because of 
the poor hawk that Captain Moray and I set free yester- 
day morning ; but it could not have been that, for it was 
free when I cried, you see. You know, of course, that he 
saved my father’s life, some years ago ? That is one reason 
why he has been used so well in Quebec, for otherwise no 
one would have lessened the rigours of his captivity. But 
there are tales that he is too curious about our govern- 
ment and state, and so he may be kept close jailed, though 
he only came here as a hostage. He is much at our home, 
and sometimes walks with Juste and me and Georgette, 
and accompanies my mother in the streets. This is not 
to the liking of the Intendant who loves not my father 
because he is such a friend of our cousin the Governor. 
If their lives and characters be anything to the point the 
Governor must be in the right. 

In truth, things are in a sad way here, for there is 
robbery on every hand, and who can tell what the end 
may be ? Perhaps that we go to the English after all. 
Monsieur Doltaire — you do not know him, I think — says, 
“ If the English eat us, as they swear they will, they’ll die 
of megrims, our affairs are so indigestible.” At another 
time he said, “ Better to be English than to be damned.” 
And when some one asked him what he meant, he said, 
“ Is it not read from the altar, ‘ Cursed is he that putteth 
his trust in man ’ ? The English trust nobody, and we 
trust the English.” That was aimed at Captain Moray, 
who was present, and I felt it a cruel thing for him to 
say; but Captain Moray, smiling at the ladies, said, 
“ Better to be French and damned than not to be French 
at all.” And this pleased Monsieur Doltaire, who does 
not love him. I know not why, but there are vague 


82 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


whispers that he is acting against the Englishman for 
causes best known at Versailles, which have nothing to do 
with our affairs here. I do believe that Monsieur Dol- 
taire would rather hear a clever thing than get ten thousand 
francs. At such times his face lights up, he is at once on 
his mettle, his eyes look almost fiendishly beautiful. He is 
a handsome man, but he is wicked, and I do not think he 
has one little sense of morals. I do not suppose he would 
stab a man in the back, or remove his neighbour’s land- 
mark in the night, though he’d rob him of it in open 
daylight, and call it “enterprise” — a usual word with 
him. 

He is a favourite with Madame Cournal, who influ- 
ences Bigot most, and one day we may see the boon com- 
panions at each other’s throats ; and if either falls, I hope 
it may be Bigot, for Monsieur Holtaire is, at least, no 
robber. Indeed, he is kind to the poor in a disdainful 
sort of way. He gives to them and scoffs at them at the 
same moment: a bad man, with just enough natural kind- 
ness to make him dangerous. I have not seen much of the 
world, but some things we know by instinct ; we feel them ; 
and I often wonder if that is not the way we know every- 
thing in the end. Sometimes when I take my long walks, 
or go and sit beside the Falls of Montmorenci, looking out 
to the great city on the Heights, to dear Isle Orleans, 
where we have our pretty villa (we are to go there next 
week for three months — happy summer months), up at 
the blue sky and into the deep woods, I have strange feel- 
ings, which afterwards become thoughts ; and sometimes 
they fly away like butterflies, but oftener they stay with 
me, and I give them a little garden to roam in — you can 
guess where. Now and then I call them out of the garden 
and make them speak, and then I set down what they say 
in my journal ; but I think they like their garden best. 
You remember the song we used to sing at school ? 


“QUOTH LITTLE GARAINE.’ 


83 


“ ‘ Where do the stars grow, little Garainel 
The garden of moons, is it far away! 

The orchard of suns, my little Garaine, 

Will you take us there some day!’ 

“ * If you shut your eyes,’ quoth little Garaine, 

‘ I will show you the way to go 
To the orchard of suns and the garden of moons 
And the field where the stars do grow. 

• “ ‘ But you must speak soft,’ quoth little Garaine, 

‘ And still must your footsteps be, 

For a great bear prowls in the field of the stars. 

And the moons they have men to see. 

“ ‘ And the suns have the Children of Signs to guard. 

And they have no pity at all — 

You must not stumble, you must not speak. 

When you come to the orchard wall. 

“ ‘ The gates are locked,’ quoth little Garaine, 

‘ But the way I am going to tell ? 

The key of your heart it will open them all : 

And there’s where the darlings dwell I ’ ” 

You may not care tq^read these lines again, but it 
helps to show what I mean : that everything is in the 
heart, and that nothing is at all if we do not feel it. 
Sometimes I have spoken of these things to my mother, 
but she do3s not see as I do. I dare not tell my father all 
I think, and J uste is so much a creature of moods that I 
am never sure whether he will be sensible and kind or 
scoff. One can not bear to be laughed at. And as for 
my sister, she never thinks ; she only lives ; and she looks 
it — looks beautiful. But there, dear Lucie, I must not 
tire you with my childish philosophy, though I feel no 
longer a child. You would not know your friend. I can 
not tell what has come over me. Voila ! 

To-morrow we go to visit General Montcalm, who has 


84 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


just arrived in the colony. Bigot and his gay set are not 
likely to be there. My mother insists that I shall never 
darken the doors of the Intendant’s palace. 

Do you still hold to your former purpose of keeping 
a daily journal ? If so, I beg you to copy into it this 
epistle and your answer ; and when I go up to your dear 
manor house at Beauce next summer, we will read over 
our letters and other things set down, and gossip of the 
changes come since we met last. Do sketch the old place 
for me (as will I our new villa on dear Isle Orleans), and 
make interest with the good cure to bring it to me with 
your letter, since there are no posts, no postmen, yet be- 
tween here and Beauce. The cure most kindly bears this 
to you, and says he will gladly be our messenger. Yester- 
day he said to me, shaking his head in a whimsical way, 
“ But no treason, mademoiselle, and no heresy or schism.” 
I am not quite sure what he meant. I dare hardly think 
he had Captain Moray in his mind. I would not for the 
world so lessen my good opinion of him as to think 
him suspicious of me when no other dare; and so I 
put his words down to chance hitting, to a humorous 
fancy. 

Be sure, dear Lucie, I shall not love you less for giv- 
ing me a prompt answer. Tell me of what you are think- 
ing and what doing. If Juste can be spared from the 
Governor’s establishment, may I bring him with me next 
summer? He is a difficult, sparkling sort of fellow, but 
you are so steady-tempered, so full of tact, getting your 
own way so quietly and cleverly, that I am sure I should 
find plenty of straw for the bricks of my house of hope, 
my castle in Spain ! 

Do not give too much of my share of thy heart else- 
where, and continue to think me, my dear Lucie, thy 
friend, loyal and loving, 


Alixe Duvarney. 


AS VAIN AS ABSALOM. 


86 


P. S. — Since the above was written we have visited 
the General. Both Monsieur Doltaire and Captain 
Moray were present, but neither took much note of me — 
Monsieur Doltaire not at all. Those two either hate each 
other lovingly, or love hatefully, I know not which, they 
are so biting, yet so friendly to each other’s cleverness, 
though their style of word-play is so different : Monsieur 
Doltaire’s like a bodkin-point. Captain Moray’s like a 
musket-stock a-clubbing. Be not surprised to see the 
British at our gates any day. Though we shall beat 
them back I shall feel no less easy because I have a 
friend in the enemy’s camp ! You may guess who. Do 
not smile. He is old enough to be my father. He said so 
himself six months ago. Alixe. 


VIII. 

AS VAIN AS ABSALOM. 

Gabord, coming in to me one day after I had lain 
down to sleep, said, “ See, m’sieu’ the dormouse, ’tis holi- 
day-eve ; the King’s sport comes to-morrow.” 

I sat up in bed with a start, for I knew not but that 
my death had been decided on without trial ; and yet on 
second thought I was sure this could not be, for every 
rule of military conduct was against it. 

“Whose holiday?” asked I after a moment; “and 
what is King’s sport ? ” 

“ You’re to play bear in the streets to-morrow — which 
is sport for the King,” he retorted ; “ we lead you by a 
rope, and you dance the quickstep to please our ladies all 
the way to the Chateau, where they bring bear to drum- 
head.” 

“ Who sits behind the drum ? ” I questioned. 

7 


80 the seats of the mighty. 

“The Marquis de Vaudreuil,” he replied, “the In- 
tendant, Master Devil Doltaire, and the little men.” By 
these last he meant officers of the colonial soldiery. 

So, then, at last I was to be tried, to be dealt with defi- 
nitely on the abominable charge. I should at least again 
see light and breathe fresh air, and feel about me the stir 
of the world. For a long year I had heard no voice but 
my own and Gabord’s, had had no friends but my pale 
blades of corn and a timid mouse, day after day no light 
at all ; and now winter was at hand again, and without 
fire and with poor food my body was chilled and starved. 
I had had no news of the world, nor of her who was dear 
to me, nor of Juste Duvarney, save that he lived, nor of 
our cause. But succeeding the thrill of delight I had at 
thought of seeing the open world again there came a feel- 
ing of lassitude, of indifference ; I shrank from the jar of 
activity. But presently I got upon my feet, and with a lit- 
tle air of drollery straightened out my clothes and fiicked a 
handkerchief across my gaiters. Then I twisted my head 
over my shoulder as if I were noting the shape of my 
back and the set of my clothes in a mirror, and thrust a 
leg out in the manner of an exquisite. I had need to do 
some mocking thing at the moment, or I should have 
given way to tears like a woman, so suddenly weak had I 
become. 

Gabord burst out laughing. 

An idea came to me. “ I must be fine to-morrow,” 
said I. “I must not shame my jailer.” I rubbed my 
beard — I had none when I came into this dungeon first. 

“ Aho ! ” said he, his eyes wheeling. 

I knew he understood me. I did not speak, but kept 
on running my fingers through my beard. 

“ As vain as Absalom,” he added. “ Do you think 
they’ll hang you by the hair ? ” 

“ I’d have it off,” said I, “ to be clean for the sacrifice.” 


AS VAIN AS ABSALOM. 


87 


“You had Voban before,” he rejoined ; “ we know what 
happened — a dainty bit of a letter all rose-lily scented, 
and comfits for the soldier. The pretty wren perches 
now in the Governor’s house — a-cousining, a-cousining. 
Think you it is that she may get a glimpse of m’sieu’ the 
dormouse as he comes to trial ? But ’tis no business o’ 
mine ; and if I bring my prisoner up when called for, 
there’s duty done ! ” 

I saw the friendly spirit in the words. 

“ Voban,” urged I, “Voban may come to me ? ” 

“ The Intendant said no, but the Governor yes,” wa^ 
the reply ; “ and that M’sieu’ Doltaire is not yet come 
back from Montreal, so he had no voice. They look for 
him here to-morrow.” 

“Voban may come?” I asked again. 

“At daybreak Voban — aho ! ” he continued. “ There’s 
milk and honey to-morrow,” he added, and then, without 
a word, he drew forth from his coat, and hurriedly thrust 
into my hands, a piece of meat and a small fiask of wine, 
and, swinging round like a schoolboy afraid of being 
caught in a misdemeanor, he passed through the door and 
the bolts clanged after him. He left the torch behind 
him, stuck in the cleft of the wall. 

I sat down on my couch, and for a moment gazed 
almost vacantly at the meat and wine in my hands. I 
had not touched either for a year, and now I could see 
that my fingers, as they closed on the food nervously, 
were thin and bloodless, and I realized that my clothes 
hung loose upon my person. Here were light, meat, and 
wine, and there was a piece of bread on the board cover- 
ing my water-jar. Luxury was spread before me, but 
although I had eaten little all day I was not hungry. 
Presently, however, I took the knife which I had hidden 
a year before, and cut pieces of the meat and laid them 
by the bread. Then I drew the cork from the bottle of 


88 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


wine, and, lifting it towards that face which was always 
visible to my soul I drank — drank — drank ! 

The rich liquor swam through my veins like glorious 
fire. It wakened my brain and nerved my body. The 
old spring of life came back. This wine had come from 
the hands of Alixe — from the Governor’s store, maybe ; 
for never could Gabord have got such stuff. I ate heartily 
of the rich beef and bread with a new-made appetite, 
and drank the rest of the wine. When I had eaten and 
drunk the last I sat and looked at the glowing torch, and 
felt a sort of comfort creep through me. Then there 
came a delightful thought. Months ago I had put away 
one last pipeful of tobacco, to save it till some day when I 
should need it most. I got it now, and no man can guess 
how lovingly I held it to a flying flame of the torch, saw 
it light, and blew out the first whiff of smoke into the 
sombre air ; for November was again piercing this under- 
ground house of mine, another winter was at hand ! I sat 
and smoked, and — can you not guess my thoughts ? For 
have you all not the same hearts, being British born and 
bred ? When I had taken the last whiff, I wrapped my- 
self in my cloak and went to sleep. But twice or thrice 
during the night I waked to see the torch still shining, 
and caught the fragrance of consuming pine, and minded 
not at all the smoke the burning made. 


IX. 


A LITTLE CONCERNING THE CHEVALIER DE LA DARANTH 

I WAS wakened completely at last by the shooting ol 
bolts. With the opening of the door I saw the figures of 
Gabord and Voban. My little friend the mouse saw them 
also, and scampered from the bread it had been eatingf 


CONCERNING THE CHEVALIER DE LA DARANTE. 89 


away among the corn, through which my footsteps had now 
made two rectangular paths, not disregarded by Gabord, 
who solicitously pulled Voban into the narrow track that 
he should not trespass on my harvest. 

I rose, showed no particular delight at seeing Voban, 
but greeted him easily — though my heart was bursting to 
ask him of Alixe — and arranged my clothes. Presently 
Gabord said, “ Stools for barber,” and, wheeling, he left 
the dungeon. He was gone only an instant, but long 
enough for Voban to thrust a letter into my hand, which 
I ran into the lining of my waistcoat as I whispered, 
“ Her brother — he is well? ” 

“ Well, and he have go to France,” he answered. “ She 
make me say, look to the round window in the Chateau 
front.” 

We spoke in English — which, as I have said, Voban 
understood imperfectly. There was nothing more said, 
and if Gabord, when he returned, suspected, he showed 
no sign, but put down two stools, seating himself on one, 
as I seated myself on the other for Voban ’s handiwork. 
Presently a soldier appeared with a bowl of coffee. Gabord 
rose, took it from him, waved him away, and handed it 
to me. Never did coffee taste so sweet, and I sipped and 
sipped till Voban had ended his work with me. Then I 
drained the last drop and stood up. He handed me a 
mirror, and Gabord, fetching a fine white handkerchief 
from his pocket, said, “ Here’s for your tears, when they 
drum you to heaven, dickey-bird.” 

But when I saw my face in the mirror I confess I was 
startled. My hair, which had been black, was plentifully 
sprinkled with white, my face was intensely pale and thin, 
and the eyes were sunk in dark hollows. I should not 
have recognised myself. But I laughed as I handed back 
the glass, and said, “All flesh is grass, but a dungeon’s no 
good meadow.” 


90 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


“’Tis for the dry chaff,” Gabord answered, “not for 
young grass — aho ! ” 

He rose and made ready to leave, Voban with him. 
“ The commissariat camps here in an hour or so,” he said, 
with a ripe chuckle. 

It was clear the new state of affairs was more to his 
mind than the long year’s rigour and silence. During 
all that time I never was visited by Doltaire but once, and 
of that event I am about to write briefly here. 

It was about two months before this particular morn- 
ing that he came, greeting me courteously enough. 

“Close quarters here,” said he, looking round as if 
the place were new to him and smiling to himself. 

“ Not so close as we all come to one day,” said I. 

“ Dismal comparison ! ” he rejoined ; “ you’ve lost your 
spirits.” 

“ Not so,” I retorted ; “ nothing but my liberty.” 

“You know the way to And it quickly,” he suggested. 

“ The letters for La Pompadour ? ” I asked. 

“ A dead man’s waste papers,” responded he ; “ of no 
use to him or you, or to any one save the Grande Mar- 
quise.” 

“Valuable to me,” said I. 

“ None but the Grande Marquise and the writer would 
give you a penny for them ! ” 

“ Why should I not be my own merchant ? ” 

“You can — to me. If not to me to no one. You 
had your chance long ago, and you refused it. You must 
admit I dealt fairly with you. I did not move till you 
had set your own trap and fallen into it. Now, if you do 
not give me the letters — well, you will give them to none 
else in this world. It has been a fair game, and I am 
winning now. I’ve only used means which one gentle- 
man might use with another. Had you been a lesser 


CONCERNING THE CHEVALIER DE LA DARANTE. 91 

man I should have had you spitted long ago. You un- 
derstand ? ” 

“ Perfectly. But since we have played so long, do 
you think Pll give you the stakes now — before the end?” 

“ It would be wiser,” he answered thoughtfully. 

“ I have a nation behind me,” urged I. 

“ It has left you in a hole here to rot.” 

“ It will take over your citadel and dig me out some 
day,” I retorted hotly. 

“What good that? Your life is more to you than 
Quebec to England.” 

“ No, no,” said I quickly ; “ I would give my life a 
hundred times to see your flag hauled down ! ” 

“ A freakish ambition,” he replied ; “ mere infatua- 
tion ! ” 

“ You do not understand it. Monsieur Doltaire,” I re- 
marked ironically. 

“I love not endless puzzles. There is no sport in 
following a maze that leads to nowhere save the grave.” 
He yawned. “ This air is heavy,” he added ; “ you must 
find it trying.” 

“ Never so trying as at this moment,” I retorted. 

“ Come, am I so malarious ? ” 

“ You are a trickster,” I answered coldly. 

“Ah, you mean that night at Bigot’s?” He smiled. 
“ No, no, you were to blame— so green. You might have 
known we were for having you between the stones. ’ 

“ But it did not come out as you wished ? ” hinted I. 

“ It served my turn,” he responded ; and he gave me 
such a smiling, malicious look that I knew he sought to 
convey he had his way with Alixe ; and though I felt that 
she was true to me his cool presumption so stirred me I 
could have struck him in the face. I got angrily to my 
feet, but as I did so I shrank a little, for at times the 
wound in my side, not yet entirely healed, hurt me. 


92 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


“ You are not well,” lie said, with instant show^ of 
curiosity ; “ your wounds still trouble you ? They should 
be healed. Gabord was ordered to see you cared for.” 

“ Gabord has done well enough,” answered I. “ I have 
had wounds before, monsieur.” 

He leaned against the wall and laughed. “What 
braggarts you English are ! ” he said. “ A race of swash- 
bucklers — even on bread and water ! ” 

He had me at advantage, and I knew it, for he h^ 
kept his temper. I made an effort. “ Both excellent,” 
rejoined I, “ and English, too.” 

He laughed again. “ Come, that is better. That’s in 
your old vein. I love to see you so. But bow knew you 
our baker was English? — which he is, a prisoner like 
yourself.” 

“ As easily as I could tell the water was not made by 
Frenchmen.” 

“Now I have hope of you,” he broke out gaily; “you 
will yet redeem your nation.” 

At that moment Gabord came with a message from 
the Governor to Doltaire, and he prepared to go. 

“You are set on sacrifice?” he asked. “Think — 
dangling from Cape Diamond ! ” 

“ I will meditate on your fate instead,” I replied. 

“ Think ! ” he said again, waving off my answer with 
his hand. “ The letters I shall no more ask for ; and you 
will not escape death ? ” 

“ Never by that way,” rejoined f 

“ So. Very good. Au plaisir^ my captain. I go to 
dine at the Seigneur Duvarney’s.” 

With that last thrust he was gone, and left me won- 
dering if the Seigneur had ever made an effort to see me, 
if he had forgiven the duel with his son. 

That was the incident. 


CONCERNING THE CHEVALIER DE LA DARANTE. 93 


When Gabord and Voban were gone, leaving the light 
behind, I went over to the torch in the wall, and drew 
Alixe’s letter from my pocket with eager lingers. It told 
the whole story of her heart. 

Chateau St. Louis, 27th November^ 1757. 

Though I write you these few words, dear Robert, I 
do not know that they will reach you, for as yet it is not 
certain they will let , Voban visit you. A year, dear 
friend, and not a word from you, and not a word to you ! 
I should have broken my heart if I had not heard of you 
one way and another. They say you are much worn in 
body, though you have always a cheerful air. There are 
stories of a visit Monsieur Doltaire paid you, and how 
you • jested. He hates you, and yet he admires you 
too. 4 

And now listen, Robert, and I beg you not to be 
angry — oh, do not be angry, for I am all yours ; but I 
want to tell you that I have not repulsed Monsieur Dol- 
taire when he has spoken flatteries to me. I have not 
believed them, and I have kept my spirit strong against 
the evil in him. I want to get you free of prison and to 
that end I have to work through him with the Intendant, 
that he will not set the Governor more against you. 
With the Intendant himself I will not deal at all. So I 
use the lesser villain, and in truth the more powerful, for 
he stands higher at yersailles than any here. With the 
Governor I have influence, for he is, as you know, a kins- 
man of my mother’s, and of late he has shown a fondness 
for me. Yet you can see that I must act most warily, 
that I must not seem to care for you, for that would be 
your complete undoing. I rather seem to scoff. (Oh, how 
it hurts me ! how my cheeks tingle when I think of it 
alone ! and how I clench my hands, hating them all for 
oppressing you !) 


94 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


I do not believe their slanders — that you are a spy. 
It is I, Robert, who have at last induced the Governor to 
bring you to trial. They would have put it off till next 
year, but I feared you would die in that awful dungeon, 
and I was sure that if your trial came on there would be a 
change, as there is to be for a time, at least. You are to be 
lodged in the common jail during the sitting of the court ; 
and so that is one step gained. Yet I had to use all man- 
ner of device with the Governor. 

He is sometimes so playful with me that I can pretend 
to sulkiness ; and so one day I said that he showed no re- 
gard for our family or for me in not bringing you, who 
had nearly killed my brother, to justice. So he consented, 
and being of a stubborn nature, too, when Monsieur Dol- 
taire and the Intendant opposed the trial, he said it should 
come off at once. But one thing grieves me : they are to 
have you marched through the streets of the town like 
any common criminal, and I dare show no distress nor 
plead, nor can my father, though he wishes to move for 
you in this ; and I dare not urge him, for then it would 
seem strange the daughter asked your punishment, and 
the father sought to lessen it. 

When you are in the common jail it will be much 
easier to help you. I have seen Gabord, but he is not to 
be bent to any purpose, though he is kind to me. I shall 
try once more to have him take some wine and meat to 
you to-night. If I fail, then I shall only pray that you 
may be given strength in body for your time of trouble 
equal to your courage. 

It may be I can fix upon a point where you may look 
to see me as you pass on to-morrow to the Chdteau. There 
must be a sign. If you will put your hand to your fore- 
head But no, they may bind you, and your hands 

may not be free. When you see me, pause in your step 
for an instant, and I shall know. I will tell Voban where 


CONCERNING THE CHEVALIER DE LA DARANTE. 95 


you shall send your glance, if he is to be let in to you, and 
I hope that what I plan may not fail. 

And so, Robert, adieu. Time can not change me, and 
your misfortunes draw me closer to you. Only the dis- 
honourable thing could make me close the doors of my 
heart, and I will not think you, whatever they say, un- 
worthy of my constant faith. Some day, maybe, we shall 
smile at and even cherish these sad times. In this gay 
house I must be flippant, for I am now of the foolish 
world ! But under all the trivial sparkle a serious heart 
beats. It belongs to thee, if thou wilt have it, Robert, the 
heart of thy Alixb. 

An hour after getting this good letter Gabord came 
again, and with him breakfast — a word which I had al- 
most dropped from my language. True, it was only in a 
dungeon, on a pair of stools, by the light of a torch, but 
how I relished it ! — a bottle of good wine, a piece of broiled 
fish, the half of a fowl, and some tender vegetables. 

When Gabord came for me with two soldiers, an hour 
later — I say an hour, but I only guessed so, for I had no 
way of noting time — I was ready for new cares, and to 
see the world again. Before the others Gabord was the 
rough, almost brutal soldier, and soon I knew that I was 
to be driven out upon the St. Foye Road and on into the 
town. My arms were well fastened down, and I was tied 
about till I must have looked like a bale of living goods 
of no great value. Indeed, my clothes were by no means 
handsome, and save for my well-shaven face and clean 
handkerchief I was an ill-favoured spectacle ; but I tried 
to bear my shoulders up as we marched through dark reek- 
ing corridors, and presently came suddenly into well-lighted 
passages. 

I had to pause, for the light blinded my eyes, and they 
hurt me horribly, so delicate were the nerves. For some 


96 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


minutes I stood there, my guards stolidly waiting, Gabord 
muttering a little and stamping upon the floor as if in 
anger, though I knew he was playing a small part to de- 
ceive his comrades. The pain in my eyes grew less, and, 
though they kept filling with moisture from the violence 
of the light I soon could see without distress. 

I was led into the yard of the citadel, where was drawn 
up a company of soldiers. Gabord bade me stand still, 
and advanced toward the officers’ quarters. I asked him if 
I might not walk to the ramparts and view the scene. 
He gruffly assented, bidding the men watch me closely, 
and I walked over to a point where, standing three hun- 
dred feet above the noble river, I could look out upon its 
sweet expanse, across to the Levis shore with its serried 
legions of trees behind and its bold settlement in front 
upon the Heights. There, eastward, lay the well- wooded 
Island of Orleans, and over all the clear sun and sky, en- 
livened by a crisp and cheering air. Snow had fallen, but 
none now lay upon the ground, and I saw a rare and win- 
ning earth. I stood absorbed. I was recalling that first 
day of my life that I remember, when at Balmore my 
grandfather made prophecies upon me, and for the first 
time I was conscious of the world. 

As I stood lost to everything about me, I heard Dol- 
taire’s voice, and presently he said over my shoulder, “ To 
wish Captain Moray a good-morning were superfluous ! ” 

I smiled at him : the pleasure of that scene had given 
me an impulse towards good nature even with my ene- 
mies. 

“ The best I ever had,” I answered quietly. 

“ Contrasts are life’s delights,” he said. “ You should 
thank us. You have your best day because of our worst 
dungeon.” 

“ But my thanks shall not be in words ; you shall 
have the same courtesy at our hands one day.” 



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CONCERNING THE CHEVALIER BE LA DARANTE. 97 

“ I had the Bastile for a year,” he rejoined, calling up 
a squad of men with his finger as he spoke. “ I have had 
my best day. Two would be monotony. You think your 
English will take this some time?” he asked, waving a 
finger toward the citadel. “ It will need good play to 
pluck that ribbon from its place.” He-glanced up, as he 
spoke, at the white flag with its golden lilies. 

“ So much the better sport,” I answered. “We will 
have the ribbon and its heritage.” 

“ You yourself shall furnish evidence to-day. Gabord 
here will see you temptingly disposed — the wild bull led 
peaceably by the nose ! ” 

“ But one day I will twist your nose. Monsieur Dol- 
taire.” 

“ That is fair enough, if rude,” he responded. “ When 
your turn comes you twist and I endure. You shall be 
nourished well like me, and I shall look a battered hulk 
like you. But I shall never be the fool that you are. If 
I had a way to slip the leash I’d slip it. You are a dolt.” 
He was touching upon the letters again. 

“I weigh it all,” said I. “I am no fool — anything 
else you will.” 

“You’ll be nothing soon, I fear — which is a pity.” 

What more he might have said I do not know, but 
there now appeared in the yard a tall, reverend old gen- 
tleman, in the costume of the coureur de bois, though his 
belt was richly chased, and he wore an order on his breast. 
There was something more refined than powerful in his 
appearance, but he had a keen, kindly eye, and a manner 
unmistakably superior. His dress was a little barbarous, 
unlike Doltaire’s splendid white uniform set off with 
violet and gold, the lace of a fine handkerchief sticking 
from his belt, and a gold-handled sword at his side, but 
the manner of both was distinguished. 

Seeing Doltaire, he came forward and they embraced. 




Me) SElAfS OF THE MlGHTV. 


Then he turned towards me, and as they walked off a little 
distance I could see that he was curious concerning me. 
Presently he raised his hand, and, as if something had 
excited him, said, “ No, no, no ; hang him and have done 
with it, but I’ll have nothing to do with it — not a thing. 
’Tis enough for me to rule at ” 

I could hear no further, but I was now sure that he 
was some one of note who had retired from any share in 
state affairs. He and Doltaire then moved on to the doors 
of the citadel, and, pausing there, Doltaire turned round 
and made a motion of his hand to Gabord. I was at once 
surrounded by the squad of men, and the order to march 
was given. A drum in front of me began to play a well- 
known derisive air of the French army. The Fox and the 
Wolf. 

We came out on the St. Foye Koad and down towards 
the Chdteau St. Louis, between crowds of shouting people 
who beat drums, kettles, pans, and made all manner of 
mocking noises. It was meant not only against myself, 
but against the British people. The women were not 
behind the men in violence ; from them all at first came 
handfuls of gravel and dust which struck me in the face ; 
but Gabord put a stop to that. 

It was a shameful ordeal, which might have vexed me 
sorely if I had not had greater trials and expected worse. 
Now and again appeared a face I knew— some lady who 
turned her head away, or some gentleman who watched 
me curiously but made no sign. 

When we came to the Chdteau, I looked up as if casu- 
ally, and there in a little round window I saw Alixe’s 
face — for an instant only. I stopped in my tracks, was 
prodded by a soldier from behind, and then stepped on. 
Entering, we were taken to the rear of the building, 
where, in an open courtyard, were a company of soldiers, 
some seats, and a table. On my right was the St. Law- 


CONCERNING THE CHEVALIER BE LA DARANTE. 99 


rence swelling on its course, hundreds of feet beneath, 
little boats passing hither and thither on its flood. 

We were waiting for about half an hour, the noises of 
the clamouring crowd coming to us, as they carried me 
aloft in effigy, and, burning me at the cliff edge, flred 
guns and threw stones at me, till, rags, ashes, and flame, I 
was tumbled into the river far below. At last from the 
Chateau came the Marquis de Vaudreuil, Bigot, and a 
number of officers. The Governor looked gravely at me, 
but did not bow ; Bigot gave me a sneering smile, eying 
me curiously the while, and (I could feel), remarking on 
my poor appearance to Cournal beside him — Cournal, 
who winked at his wife’s dishonour for the favour of her 
lover, who gave him means for public robbery. 

Presently the Governor was seated, and he said, look- 
ing round, “ Monsieur Doltaire — he is not here?” 

Bigot shook his head, and answered, “No doubt he is 
detained at the citadel.” 

“ And the Seigneur Duvarney ? ” the Governor added. 

At that moment the Governor’s secretary handed him 
a letter. The Governor opened it. “Listen,” said he. 
He read to the effect that the Seigneur Duvarney felt 
that he was ill fltted to be a judge in this case, remem- 
bering the conflict between his son and the notorious 
Captain Moray. And from another standpoint, though 
the prisoner merited any fate reserved for him, if guilty 
of spying, he could not forget that his life had been saved 
by this British captain — an obligation which, unfortunate- 
ly, he could neither repay nor wipe out. After much 
thought, he must disobey the Governor’s summons, and 
he prayed that his Excellency would grant his considera- 
tion thereupon. 

I saw the Governor frown, but he made no remark, 
while Bigot said something in his ear which did not im- 
prove his humour, for he replied curtly, and turned to his 

Lofc. 


100 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


secretary. “We must have two gentlemen more,” he 
said. 

At that moment Doltaire entered with the old noble- 
man of whom I have written. The Governor instantly 
brightened, and gave the stranger a warm greeting, call- 
ing him his “ dear Chevalier ” ; and, after a deal of urg- 
ing, the Chevalier de la Darante was seated as one of my 
judges : which did not at all displease me, for I liked 
his face. 

I do not need to dwell upon the trial here. I have set 
down the facts of the case before. I had no counsel and 
no witnesses. There seemed no reason why the trial should 
have dragged on all day, for I soon saw it was intended to 
find me guilty. Yet I was surprised to see how Doltaire 
brought up a point here and a question there in my favour, 
which served to lengthen out the trial ; and all the time 
he sat near the Chevalier de la Darante, now and again 
talking with him. 

It was late evening before the trial came to a close. 
The one point to be established was that the letters taken 
from General Braddock were mine, and that I had made 
the plans while a hostage. I acknowledged nothing, and 
would not do so unless allowed to speak freely. This was 
not permitted until just before I was sentenced. 

Then Doltaire’s look was fixed on me, and I knew he 
waited to see if I would divulge the matter private be- 
tween us. However, I stood by my compact with him. 
Besides, it could not serve me to speak of it here, or use 
it as an argument, and it would only hasten an end which 
I felt he could prevent if he chose. 

So when I was asked if I had aught to say I pleaded 
only that they had not kept our Articles of War signed at 
Fort Necessity, which provided that I should be free with- 
in two months and a half — that is, when prisoners in our 
hands should be delivered up to them, as they were. They 


CONCERNING THE CHEVALIER HE LA DARANTE. IQl 

^ad broken their bond, though we had fulfilled ours, and 
I held myself justified in doing what I had done for our 
cause and for my own life. 

I was not heard patiently, though I could see that the 
Governor and the Chevalier were impressed ; but Bigot 
instantly urged the case hotly against me, and the end 
came very soon. It was now dark ; a single light had 
been brought and placed beside the Governor, while a 
soldier held a torch at a distance. Suddenly there was a 
silence ; then, in response to a signal, the sharp ringing 
of a hundred bayonets as they were drawn and fastened 
to the muskets, and I could see them gleaming in the 
feeble torchlight. Presently out of the stillness the Gov- 
ernor’s voice was heard condemning me to death by hang- 
ing, thirty days hence at sunrise. Silence fell again in- 
stantly, and then a thing occurred which sent a thrill 
through us all. From the dark balcony above us came a 
voice, weird, high, and wailing : 

“Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! He is guilty, and shall 
die ! Francois Bigot shall die ! ” 

The voice was Mathilde’s, and I saw Doltaire shrug a 
shoulder and look with malicious amusement at the In- 
tendant. Bigot himself sat pale and furious. “ Discover 
the intruder,” he said to Gabord, who was standing near, 
“ and have — him — jailed.” 

But the Governor interfered. “It is some drunken 
creature,” he urged quietly. “ Take no account of it.” 


8 


102 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY, 


X. 

AN OFFICER OF MARINES. 

What was my dismay to know that I was to be taken 
back again to my dungeon, and not lodged in the common 
jail, as I had hoped and Alixe had hinted ! When I saw 
whither my footsteps were directed I said nothing, nor 
did Gabord speak at all. We marched back through a 
railing crowd, all silent and gloomy. I felt a chill at my 
heart when the citadel loomed up again out of the Novem- 
ber shadow, and I half paused as I entered the gates. 
“ Forward ! ” said Gabord mechanically, and I moved on 
into the yard, into the prison, through the dull corridors, 
the soldiers’ heels clanking and resounding behind, down 
into the bowels of the earth, where the air was moist and 
warm, and then into my dungeon home ! I stepped inside, 
and Gabord ordered the ropes off my person somewhat 
roughly, watched the soldiers till they were well away, and 
then leaned against the wall, waiting for me to speak. I 
had no impulse to smile, but I knew how I could most 
touch him, and so I said lightly, “You’ve dickey-bird 
home again.” 

He answered nothing and turned towards the door, 
leaving the torch stuck in the wall. But he suddenly 
stopped short, and thrust out to me a tiny piece of paper. 

“ A hand touched mine as I went through the Chdteau,” 
said he, “ and when out I came, look you, this here ! i 
can’t see to read. What does it say ? ” he added, with a 
shrewd attempt at innocence. 

I opened the little paper, held it toward the torch, 
and read : 

Because of the storm there is no sleeping. Is there 
not the watcher aloft 9 Shall the sparrow fall unheeded ? 
The wiched shall he confounded.'*'* 


AN OFFICER OF MARINES. 


103 


It was Alixe’s writing. She had hazarded this in the 
hands of my jailer as her only hope, and, knowing that he 
might not serve her, had put her message in vague sen- 
tences which I readily interpreted. I read the words 
aloud to him, and he laughed, and remarked, “ ’Tis a 
foolish thing that — the Scarlet Woman, most like.” 

“Most like,” I answered quietly; “yet what should 
she be doing there at the Chateau ? ” 

“ The mad go everywhere,” he answered, “ even to the 
Intendance ! ” 

With that he left me, going, as he said, “ to fetch 
crumbs and wine.” Exhausted with the day’s business, I 
threw myself upon my couch, drew my cloak over me, 
composed myself, and in a few minutes was sound asleep. 
I waked to find Gabord in the dungeon, setting out food 
upon a board supported by two stools. 

“ ’Tis custom to feed your dickey-bird ere you fetch 
him to the pot,” he said, and drew the cork from a bottle 
of wine. 

He watched me as I ate and talked, but he spoke 
little. When I had finished, he fetched a packet of 
tobacco from his pocket. I offered him money, but he 
refused it, and I did not press him, for he said the food 
and wine were not of his buying. Presently he left, and 
came back with pens, ink, paper, and candles, which he 
laid out on my couch without a word. 

After a little he came again, and placed a book on the 
improvised table before me. It was an English Bible. 
Opening it, I found inscribed on the fly-leaf, Charles 
Wainjleet, Champlain to the British Army. Gabord ex- 
plained that this chaplain had been in the citadel for some 
weeks ; had often inquired about me ; had been brought 
from the Ohio, and had known of me, having tended the 
lieutenant of my Virginian infantry in his last hours. 
Gabord thought I should now begin to make my peace 


104 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


with Heaven, and so had asked for the chaplain’s Bible, 
which was freely given. I bade him thank the chaplain 
for me, and opening the book, I found a leaf turned down 
at the words, 

“ In the shadow of Thy wings will I make my refuge,^ 
nntil these calamities he overpast T 

When I was left alone, I sat down to write diligently 
that history of myself which I had composed and fixed in 
my memory during the year of my housing in this dun- 
geon. The words came from my pen freely, and hour 
after hour through many days, while no single word 
reached me from the outside world, I wrote on ; carefully 
revising, but changing little from that which I had taken 
so long to record in my mind. I would not even yet 
think that they would hang me ; and if they did, what 
good could brooding do? When the last word of the 
memoirs (I may call them so), addressed to Alixe, had 
been written, I turned my thoughts to other friends. 

The day preceding that fixed for my execution came, 
yet there was no sign from friend or enemy without. At 
ten o’clock of that day Chaplain Wainfleet was admitted 
to me in the presence of Gabord and a soldier. I found 
great pleasure in his company, brief as his visit was ; and 
after I had given him messages to bear for me to old friends, 
if we never met again and he were set free, he left me, be- 
nignly commending me to Heaven. There was the question 
of my other letters. I had but one desire — Voban again, 
unless at my request the Seigneur Duvarney would come, 
and they would let him come. If it were certain that I 
was to go to the scaffold, then I should not hesitate to tell 
him my relations with his daughter, that he might com- 
fort her when, being gone from the world myself, my 
love could do her no harm. 1 could not think that he 
would hold against me the duel with his son, and I felt 
sure he would come to me if he could. 


AN OFFICER, OF MARINES. 


105 


But why should I not try for both Voban and th© 
Seigneur? So I spoke to Gabord. 

“Voban! Voban! ’’said he. “Does dickey-bird play 
at peacock still? Well, thou shalt see Voban. Thou 
shalt go trimmed to heaven — aho ! ” 

Presently I asked him if he would bear a message to 
the Governor, asking permission for the Seigneur Duvar- 
ney to visit me, if he were so inclined. At his request I 
wrote my petition out, and he carried it away with him, 
saying that I should have Voban that evening. 

I waited hour after hour, but no one came. As near 
as 1 could judge it was now evening. It seemed strange 
to think that, twenty feet above me, the world was all 
white with snow ; the sound of sleigh-bells and church- 
bells, and the cries of snowshoers ringing on the clear, 
sharp air. I pictured the streets of Quebec alive with 
people : the young Seigneur set oft with furs and silken 
sash and sword or pistols ; the long-haired, black-eyed 
woodsman in his embroidered moccasins and leggings 
with flying thrums ; the peasant farmer slapping his 
hands cheerfully in the lighted market-place ; the petty 
noble, with his demoiselle, hovering in the precincts of 
the Chateau St. Louis and the in tendance. Dp there 
were light, freedom, and the inspiriting frost ; down here 
in my dungeon, the blades of corn, which, dying, yet 
never died, told the story of a choking air, wherein the 
body and soul of a man droop and take long to die. This 
was the night before Christmas Eve, when in England and 
Virginia they would be preparing for feasting and thanks- 
giving. 

The memories of past years crowded on me. I 
thought of feastings and spendthrift rejoicings in Glas- 
gow ^nd Virginia. All at once the carnal man in me 
rose up and damned these lying foes of mine. Resigna- 
tion went whistling down the wind. Hang me ! Hang 


106 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


me ! No, by the God that gave me breath ! I sat back 
and laughed — laughed at my own insipid virtue, by 
which, to keep faith with the fanatical follower of Prince 
Charlie, I had refused my liberty ; cut myself off from 
the useful services of my King ; wasted good years of my 
life, trusting to pressure and help to come from England, 
which never came ; twisted the rope for my own neck to 
keep honour with the dishonourable Doltaire, who him- 
self had set the noose swinging ; and, inexpressible mis- 
ery! involved in my shame and peril a young, blithe 
spirit, breathing a miasma upon the health of a tender 
life. Every rebellious atom in my blood sprang to indig- 
nant action. I swore that if they fetched me to the gal- 
lows to celebrate their Noel, other lives than mine should 
go to keep me company on the dark trail. To die like a 
rat in a trap, oiled for the burning, and lighted by the 
torch of hatred ! No, I would die fighting, if I must die. 

I drew from its hiding-place the knife I had secreted 
the day I was brought into that dungeon — a little weapon, 
but it would serve for the first blow. At whom ? • Gabord ? 
It all fiashed through my mind how I might do it when 

he came in again : bury this blade in his neck or heart 

it was long enough for the work; then, when he was 
dead, change my clothes for his, take his weapons, and 
run my chances to get free of the citadel. Free? Where 
should I go in the dead of winter ? Who would hide me, 
shelter me? I could not make my way to an English 
settlement. Ill clad, exposed to the merciless climate, 
and the end death. But that was freedom — freedom ! I 
could feel my body dilating with the thought, as I paced 
my dungeon like an ill-tempered beast. But kill Gabord, 
who had put himself in danger to serve me, who himself 
had kept the chains from off my ankles and body, whose 
own life depended upon my security— “ Come, come, 
Robert Moray,” said I, “ what relish have you for that ? 


AN OFFICER OF MARINES. 


107 


That’s an ill game for a gentleman. Alixe Duvarney 
would rather see you dead than get your freedom over the 
body of this man.” 

That was an hour of storm. I am glad that I con- 
quered the baser part of me ; for, almost before I had 
grown calm again, the bolts of the dungeon doors shot 
back, and presently Gabord stepped inside, followed by a 
muffled figure. 

“Voban the barber,” said Gabord in a strange voice, 
and stepping again outside, he closed the door, but did 
not shoot the bolts. 

I stood as one in a dream. Voban the barber ? In 
spite of cap and great fur coat, I saw the outline of a fig- 
ure that no barber ever had in this world. I saw two 
eyes shining like lights set in a rosy sky. A moment of 
doubt, of impossible speculation, of delicious suspense, 
and then the coat of Voban the barber opened, dropped 
away from the lithe, graceful figure of a young officer of 
marines, the cap fiew off, and in an instant the dear head, 
the blushing, shining face of Alixe was on my breast. 

In that moment, stolen from the calendar of hate, I 
ran into the haven where true hearts cast anchor and bless 
God that they have seen upon the heights to guide them 
the lights of home. The moment flashed by and was 
gone, but the light it made went not with it. 

When I drew her blushing face up, and stood her off 
from me that I might look at her again, the colour flew 
back and forth on her cheek, as you may see the fire flut- 
ter in an uncut ruby when you turn it in the sun. Mod 
estly drawing the cloak she wore more closely about her, 
she hastened to tell me how it was she came in such a 
guise ; but I made her pause for a moment while I gave 
her a seat and sat down beside her. Then by the light of 
the flickering torch and flaring candles I watched her feel- 
ings play upon her face as the warm light of autumn 


108 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


shifts upon the glories of ripe fruits. Her happiness was 
tempered by the sadness of our position, and my heart 
smote me that I had made her suffer, had brought care to 
her young life. I could see that in the year she had grown 
older, yet her beauty seemed enhanced by that and by the 
trouble she had endured. I shall let her tell her story 
here unbroken by my questions and those interruptions 
which Gabord made, bidding her to make haste. She 
spoke without faltering, save here and there; but even 
then I could see her brave spirit quelling the riot of her 
emotions, shutting down the sluice-gate of her tears. 

“ I knew,” she said, her hand clasped in mine, “ that 
Gabord was the only person likely to be admitted to you, 
and so for days, living in fear lest the worst should hap- 
pen, I have prepared for this chance. I have grown so 
in height that an old uniform of my brother’s would fit 
me, and I had it ready — small sword and all,” she added, 
with a sad sort of humour, touching the weapon at her 
side. “You must know that we have for the winter a 
house here upon the ramparts near the Chdteau. It was 
my mother’s doings, that my sister Georgette and I might 
have no great journeyings in the cold to the festivities 
hereabouts. So I, being a favourite with the Governor, 
ran in and out of the Chateau at my will ; of which my 
mother was proud, and she allowed me much liberty, for 
to be a favourite of the Governor is an honour. I knew 
how things were going, and what the chances were of the 
sentence being carried out on you. Sometimes I thought 
my heart would burst with the anxiety of it all, but 
I would show that to the world. If you could but have 
seen me smile at the Governor and Monsieur Doltaire — 
nay, do not press my hand so, Robert; you know well 
you have no need to fear monsieur — while I learned se- 
crets of state, among them news of you. Three nights 
ago Monsieur Doltaire was talking with me at a ball — ah, 


AN OFFICER OF MARINES. 


109 


those feastings while you were lying in a dungeon, and I 
shutting up my love and your danger close in my heart, 
even from those who loved me best ! Well, suddenly he 
said, ‘ I think I will not have our English captain shifted 
to a better world.’ 

“ My heart stood still ; I felt an ache across my breast 
so that I could hardly breathe. ‘ Why will you not?’ said 
I ; ‘ was not the sentence just ? ’ He paused a minute, 
and then replied, ‘All sentences are just when an enemy 
is dangerous.’ Then said I as in surprise, ‘ Why, was he 
no spy, after all ? ’ He sat back, and laughed a little. ‘ A 
spy according to the letter of the law, but you have heard 
of secret history — eh ? ’ I tried to seem puzzled, for I 
had a thought there was something private between you 
and him which has to do with your fate. So I said, as if 
bewildered, ‘ You mean there is evidence which was not 
shown at the trial ? ’ He answered slowly, ‘ Evidence that 
would bear upon the morals, not the law, of the case.’ 
Then said I, ‘ Has it to do with you, monsieur?’ ‘ It has 
to do with France,’ he replied. ‘ And so you will not have 
his death ? ’ I asked. ‘ Bigot wishes it,’ he replied, ‘ for 
no other reason than that Madame Cournal has spoken 
nice words for the good-looking captain, and because that 
unsuccessful duel gave Vaudreuil an advantage over him- 
self. Vaudreuil wishes it because he thinks it will sound 
well in France, and also because he really believes the 
man a spy. The Council do not care much ; they follow 
the Governor and Bigot, and both being agreed, their 
verdict is unanimous.’ He paused, then added, ‘And the 
Seigneur Duvarney — and his daughter — wish it because 
of a notable injury to one of their name.’ At that I cau- 
tiously replied, ‘ No, my father does not wish it, for my 
brother gave the offence, and Captain Moray saved his 
life, as you know. I do not wish it. Monsieur Doltaire, 
because hanging is a shameful death, and he is a gentle- 


no 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


man, not a ruffian. Let him be shot like a gentleman. 
How will it sound at the Court of France that, on insuffi- 
cient evidence, as you admit, an English gentleman was 
hanged for a spy ? Would not the King say (for he is a 
gentleman). Why was not all this shown me before the 
man’s death ? Is it not a matter upon which a country 
would feel as gentlemen feel ? ’ 

“ I knew it the right thing to say at the moment, and 
it seemed the only way to aid you, though I intended, if 
the worst came to the worst, to go myself to the Governor 
at the last and plead for your life, at least for a reprieve. 
But it had suddenly flashed upon me that a reference to 
France was the thing, since the Articles of War which 
you are accused of dishonouring were signed by officers 
from France and England. 

“ Presently he turned to me with a look of curiosity, 
and another sort of look also that made me tremble, and 
said, ‘Now, there you have put your Anger on the point— 
my point, the choice weapon I had reserved to prick the 
little bubble of Bigot’s hate and the Governor’s conceit, if 
I so chose, even at the last. And here is a girl, a young 
girl just freed from pinafores, who teaches them the law 
of nations ! If it pleased me I should not speak, for Vau- 
dreuil’s and Bigot’s affairs are none of mine ; but, in truth, 
why should you kill your enemy ? It is the sport to keep 
him living ; you can get no change for your money from 
a dead man. He has had one cheerful year ; why not an- 
other, and another, and another? And so watch him 
fretting to the slow-coming end, while now and again you 
give him a taste of hope, to drop him back again into the 
pit which has no sides for climbing.’ He paused a min- 
ute, and then added, ‘ A year ago I thought he had touched 
you, this Britisher, with his raw humour and manners ; 
but, my faith, how swiftly does a woman’s fancy veer ! ’ 
At that I said calmly to him, ‘ You must remember that 


AN OFFICER OF MARINES. 


Ill 


then he was not thought so base.’ ‘ Yes, yes,’ he replied ; 

* and a woman loves to pity the captive, whatever his fault, 
if he be presentable and of some notice or talent. And 
Moray has gifts,’ he went on. I appeared all at once to 
be offended. ‘Veering, indeed ! a woman’s fancy ! I think 
you might judge women better. You come from high 
places. Monsieur Doltaire, and they say this and that of 
your great talents and of your power at Versailles, but 
what proof have we had of it ? You set a girl down with 
a fine patronage, and you hint at weapons to cut off my 
cousin the Governor and the Intendant from their pur- 
poses ; but how do we know you can use them, that you 
have power with either the unnoticeable woman or the 
great men ? ’ I knew very well it was a bold move. He 
suddenly turned to me, in his cruel eyes a glittering kind 
of light, and said, ‘ I suggest no more than I can do with 
those “ great men ” ; and as for the woman, the slave can 
not be patron — I am the slave. I thought not of power 
before ; but now that I do, I will live up to my thinking. 
I seem idle, 1 am not ; purposeless, I am not ; a gamester, 
I am none. I am a sportsman, and I will not leave the 
field till all the hunt be over. I seem a trifler, yet I have 
persistency. I am no romanticist, I have no great admira- 
tion for myself, and yet when I set out to hunt a woman 
honestly, be sure I shall never back to kennel till she is 
mine or I am done for utterly. Not by worth nor by de- 
serving, but by unending patience and diligence — that shall 
be my motto. I shall devote to the chase every art that I 
have learned or known by nature. So there you have me, 
mademoiselle. Since you have brought me to the point, 
I will unfurl my fiag. ... I am— your— hunter,’ he went 
on, speaking with slow, painful emphasis, ‘and I shall 
make you mine. You fight against me, but it is no use.’ 
I got to my feet, and said with coolness, though I was 
sick at heart and trembling, ‘ You are frank. You have 


112 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


made two resolves. I shall give weight to the one as yoti 
fulfil the other ’ ; and, smiling at him, I moved away 
towards my mother. 

“ Masterful as he is I felt that this would touch his 
vanity. There lay my great chance with him. If he had 
guessed the truth of what’s between us, be sure, Robert, 
your life were not worth one hour beyond to-morrow’s 
sunrise. You must know how I loathe deceitfulness, but 
when one weak girl is matched against powerful and evil 
men what can she do? My conscience does not chide 
me, for I know my cause is just. Robert, look me in the 
eyes. . . . There, like that. . . . Now tell me : You are 
innocent of the dishonourable thing, are you not ? I be- 
lieve with all my soul; but that I may say from your own 
lips that you are no spy, tell me so.” 

When I had said as she had wished, assuring her she 
should know all, carrying proofs away with her, and that 
hidden evidence of which Doltaire had spoken, she went 
on : 

“ ‘ You put me to the test,’ said monsieur. ‘ Doing one, 
it will be proof that I shall do the other.’ He fixed his 
eyes upon me with such a look that my whole nature 
shrank from him, as if the next instant his hateful hands 
were to be placed on me. Oh, Robert, I know how peril- 
ous was the part I played, but I dared it for your sake. 
For a whole year I have dissembled to every one save to 
that poor mad soul Mathilde, who reads my heart in her 
wild way, to Voban, and to the rough soldier outside your 
dungeon. But they will not betray me. God has given 
us these rough but honest friends. 

“ Well, monsieur left me that night, and I have not 
seen him since, nor can I tell where he is, for no one 
knows, and I dare not ask too much. I did believe he 
would achieve his boast as to saving your life, and so, all 
yesterday and to-day, I have waited with most anxious 


AN OFFICER OF MARINES. 


113 


heart ; but not one word ! Yet there was that in all he 
said which made me sure he meant to save you, and I be- 
lieve he will. Yet think : if anything happened to him ! 
You know what wild doings go on at Bigot’s chdteau out 
at Charlesbourg ; or, again, in the storm of yesterday he 
may have been lost. You see, there are the hundred 
chances ; so I determined not to trust wholly to him. 
There was one other way — to seek the Governor myself, 
open my heart to him, and beg for a reprieve. To-night 
at nine o’clock — it is now six, Robert — we go to the Chd- 
* teau St. Louis, my mother and my father and I, to sup 
with the Governor. Oh, think what I must endure, to 
face them with this awful shadow^ on me ! If no word 
come of the reprieve before that hour, I shall make my 
own appeal to the Governor. It may ruin me, but it may 
save you ; and that done, what should I care for the rest ? 
Your life is more to me than all the world beside.” Here 
she put both hands upon my shoulders and looked me in 
the eyes. 

I did not answer yet, but took her hands in mine, and 
she continued : “ An hour past I told my mother I should 
go to see my dear friend Lucie Lotbini^re. Then I stole 
up to my room, put on my brother’s uniform, and came 
down to meet Voban near the citadel, as we had arranged. 
I knew he was to have an order from the Governor to 
visit you. He was waiting, and to my great joy he put 
the order in my hands. I took his coat and wig and cap, 
a poor disguise, and came straight to the citadel, handing 
the order to the soldiers at the gate. They gave it back 
without a word, and passed me on. I thought this strange, 
and looked at the paper by the light of the torches. What 
was my surprise to see that Voban’s name had been left 
out ! It but gave permission to the bearer. That would 
serve with the common soldier, but I knew well it would 
not with Gabord or with the commandant of the citadel. 


114 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


All at once I saw the great risk I was running, the dan- 
ger to us both. Still I would not turn back. But how 
good fortune serves us when we least look for it ! At the 
commandant’s very door was Gabord. I did not think to 
deceive him. It was my purpose from the first to throw 
myself upon his mercy. So there, that moment, I thrust 
the order into his hand. He read it, looked a moment 
half fiercely and half kindly, at me then turned and took 
the order to the commandant. Presently he came out, 
and said to me, ‘ Come, m’sieu’, and see you clip the gen- 
tleman dainty fine for his sunrise travel. He’ll get no 
care ’twixt posting-house and end of journey, m’sieu’.’ 
This he said before two soldiers, speaking with harshness 
and a brutal humour. But inside the citadel he changed 
at once, and, taking from my head this cap and wig, he 
said quite gently, yet I could see he was angry, too, ‘ This 
is a mad doing, young lady.’ He said no more, but led 
me straight to you. If I had told him I was coming, I 
know he would have stayed me. But at the dangerous 
moment he had not heart to drive me back. . . . And 
that is all my story, Robert.” 

As I have said, this tale was broken often by little 
questionings and exclamations, and was not told in one 
long narrative as I have written it here. When she had 
done I sat silent and overcome for a moment. There was 
one thing now troubling me sorely, even in the painful joy 
of having her here close by me. She had risked all to 
save my life — reputation, friends, even myself, the one 
solace in her possible misery. Was it not my duty to agree 
to Doltaire’s terms, for her sake, if there was yet. a chance 
to do so? I had made a solemn promise to Sir John 
Godric that those letters, if they ever left my hands, should 
go to the great lady who had written them ; and to save 
my own life I would not have broken faith with my bene- 
factor. But had I the right to add to the misery of this 


AN OFFICER OF MARINES. 


115 


sweet, brave spirit ? Suppose it was but for a year or two : 
had I the right to give her sorrow for that time, if I could 
prevent it, even at the cost of honour with the dead ? Was 
it not my duty to act, and at once ? Time was short. 

While in a swift moment I was debating, Gabord 
opened the door, and said, “ Come, end it, end it. Ga- 
bord has a head to save ! ” I begged him for one minute 
more, and then giving Alixe the packet which held my 
story, I told her hastily the matter between Doltaire and 
myself, and said that now, rather than give her sorrow, I 
was prepared to break my word with Sir John Godric. 
She heard me through with flashing eyes, and I could see 
her bosom heave. When I had done, she looked me 
straight in the eyes. 

“ Is all that here ? ” she said, holding up the packet. 

“ All,” I answered. 

“And you would not break your word to save your 
own life ? ” 

I shook my head in negation. 

•“Now I know that you are truly honourable,” she an- 
swered, “ and you shall not break your promise for me. 
No, no, you shall not ; you shall not stir. Tell me that 
you will^ot send word to Monsieur Doltaire — tell me ! ” 

When, after some struggle, I had consented, she said, 
“ But I may act. I am not bound to secrecy. I have 
given no word or bond. I will go to the Governor with 
the tale of my love, and I do not fear the end. They will 
put me in a convent, and I shall see you no more, but I 
shall have saved you.” 

In vain I begged her not to do so ; her purpose was 
strong, and I could only get her promise that she would 
not act till midnight. This was hardly achieved when 
Gabord entered quickly, saying, “ The Seigneur Duvarney ! 
On with your coat, wig, and cap ! Quick, mademoiselle ! ” 

Swiftly the disguise was put on, and I clasped her to 


116 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


my breast with a joyful agony, while Gabord hastily put 
out the candles and torch, and drew Alixe behind the 
dungeon door. Then standing himself in the doorway, he 
loudly commended me to sleep sound and be ready for 
long travel in the morning. Taking the hint I threw my- 
self upon my couch and composed myself. An instant 
afterwards the Seigneur appeared with a soldier. Gabord 
met him cheerfully, looked at the order from the Gover- 
nor, and motioned the Seigneur in and the soldier away. 
As Duvarney stepped inside, Gabord followed, holding 
up a torch. I rose to meet my visitor, and as I took his 
hand I saw Gabord catch Alixe by the sleeve and hurry 
her out with a whispered word, swinging the door behind 
her as she passed. Then he stuck the torch in the wall, 
went out, shut and bolted the dungeon door, and left us 
two alone. 

I was glad that Alixe’s safety had been assured, and 
my greeting of her father was cordial. But he was more 
reserved than I had ever known him. The duel with his 
son, which had sent the youth to France and left him 
with a wound which would trouble him for many a day, 
weighed heavily against me. Again, I think he guessed 
my love for Alixe, and resented it with all his might. 
What Frenchman would care to have his daughter lose 
her heart to one accused of a wretched crime, condemned 
to death, an enemy of his country and a Protestant ? I 
was sure that, should he guess at the exact relations be- 
tween us, Alixe would be sent behind the tall doors of a 
convent, where I should knock in vain. 

“ You must not think, Moray,” said he, “ that I have 
been indifferent to your fate, but you can not guess how 
strong is the feeling against you, how obdurate is the 
Governor, who, if he should appear lax in dealing with 
you, would give a weapon into Bigot’s hands which might 
ruin him in France one day. I have but^his moment 


AN OFFICER OF MARINES. 


117 


come from the Governor, and there seems no way to move 
him.” 

I saw that he was troubled greatly, and 1 felt his help- 
lessness. He went on : “ There is but one man who could 
bend the Governor, but he, alas ! is no friend of yours. 
And what way there is to move him I know not ; he has 
no wish, I fancy, but that you shall go to your fate.” 

“You mean Monsieur Doltaire? ” said I quietly. 

“Doltaire,” he answered. “I have tried to find him, 
for he is the secret agent of La Pompadour, and if I had 

one plausible reason to weigh with him But I have 

none, unless you can give it. There are vague hints of 
things between you and him, and I have come to ask if 
you can put any fact, any argument, in my hands that 
would aid me with him. I would go far to serve you.” 

“ Think not, I pray you,” returned I, “ that there is 
any debt unsatisfied between us.” 

He waved his hand in a melancholy way. “ Indeed, I 
wish to serve you for the sake of past friendship between 
us, not only for that debt’s sake.” 

“ In spite of my quarrel with your son ? ” asked I. 

“ In spite of that, indeed,” he said slowly, “ though a 
great wedge was driven between us there.” 

“I am truly sorry for it,” said I, with some pride. 
“ The blame was in no sense mine. I was struck across 
the face; I humbled myself, remembering you, but he 
would have me out yes or no.” 

“ Upon a wager ! ” he urged, somewhat coldly. 

“With the Intendant, monsieur,” I replied, “not with 
your son.” 

“ I can not understand the matter,” was his gloomy 
answer. 

“ I beg you not to try,” I rejoined ; “ it is too late for 
explanations, and I have nothing to tell you of myself and 
Monsieur Doltaire. Only, whatever comes, remember I 
9 


118 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


have begged nothing of you, have desired nothing but 
justice— that only. I shall make no further move; the 
axe shall fall if it must. I have nothing now to do but 
set my house in order, and live the hours between this 
and sunrise with what quiet I may. I am ready for either 
freedom or death. Life is not so incomparable a thing 
that I can not give it up without pother.’’ 

He looked at me a moment steadily. * “ You and I are 
standing far off from each other,” he remarked. “ I will 
say one last thing to you, though you seem to wish me 
gone and your own grave closing in. I was asked by the 
Governor to tell you that if you would put him in the 
way of knowing the affairs of your provinces from the 
letters you have received, together with estimate of forces 
and plans of your forts, as you have known them, he will 
spare you. I only tell you this because you close all other 
ways to me.” 

“ I carry,” said I, with a sharp burst of anger, “ the 
scars of wounds an insolent youth gave me. I wish now 
that I had killed the son of the man who dares bring me 
such a message.” 

For a moment I had forgotten Alixe, everything, in 
the wildness of my anger. I choked with rage ; I could 
have struck him. 

“ I mean nothing against you,” he urged, with great 
ruefulness. “ I suggest nothing. I bring the Governor’s 
message, that is all. And let me say,” he added, “ that I 
have not thought you a spy, nor ever shall think so.” 

I was trembling with anger still, and I was glad that 
at the moment Gabord opened the door and stood 
waiting. 

“You will not part with me in peace, then?” asked 
the Seigneur slowly. 

“ I will remember the gentleman who gave a captive 
hospitality,” I answered. “ I am too near death to let a 


THE COMING OP DOLTAIRE. 


119 


late injury outweigh an old friendship. 1 am ashamed, 
but not only for myself. Let us part in peace — ay, let us 
part in peace,” I added with feeling, for the thought of 
Alixe came rushing over me, and this was her father ! 

“ Good-by, Moray,” he responded gravely. “ You are 
a soldier, and brave. If the worst comes, I know how you 
will meet it. Let us waive all bitter thoughts between 
us. Good-by.” 

We shook hands then, without a word, and in a mo- 
ment the dungeon door closed behind him, and I was 
alone. For a moment my heart was heavy beyond tell- 
ing, and a terrible darkness settled on my spirit. I sat 
down on my couch and buried my head in my hands. 


XI. 

THE COMING OF DOLTAIRE. 

At last I was roused by Gabord’s voice. 

He sat down, and drew the leaves of faded corn be- 
tween his fingers. “ ’Tis a poor life, this in a cage, after 
all — eh, dickey-bird ? If a soldier can’t stand in the field 
fighting, if a man can’t rub shoulders with man, and pitch 
a tent of his own somewhere, why not go travelling with 
the Beast — aho ? To have all the life' sucked out like 
these — eh ? To see the flesh melt and the hair go white, 
the eye to be one hour bright like a fire in a kiln, and the 
next like mother on working vinegar — that’s not living 
at all — no.” 

The speech had evidently cost him much thinking, 
and when he ended, his cheeks puffed out and a soundless 
laugh seemed to gather, but it burst in a sort of sigh. I 
would have taken his hand that moment, if I had not re- 
membered when once he drew back from such demon- 


120 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


strations. I did not speak, but nodded assent, and took 
to drawing the leaves of corn between my fingers as he 
was doing. 

After a moment, cocking his head at me as might a 
surly schoolmaster in a pause of leniency, he added, “ As 
quiet, as quiet, and never did he fly at door of cage, nor 
peck at jailer — aho ! ” 

I looked at him a minute seriously, and then, feeling 
In my coat, handed to him the knife which I had secreted, 
with the words, “ Enough for pecking wdth, eh ? ” 

He looked at me so strangely, as he weighed the knife 
up and down in his hand, that I could not at first 
guess his thought ; but presently I understood it, and I 
almost could have told what he would say. He opened 
the knife, felt the blade, measured it along his fingers, 
and then said, with a little bursting of the lips, “ Poom ! 
But what would ma’m’selle have thought if Gabord was 
found dead with a hole in his neck — behind ? Eh ? ” 

He had struck the very note that had sung in me 
when the temptation came ; but he was gay at once again, 
and I said to him, “ What is the hour fixed ? ” 

“ Seven o’clock,” he answered, “ and I will bring your 
breakfast first.” 

“ Good-night, then,” said I. “ Coffee and a little to- 
bacco will be enough.” 

When he was gone I lay down on my bag of straw, 
which, never having been renewed, was now only full of 
worn chaff, and, gathering myself in my cloak, was soon in 
a dreamless sleep. 

I waked to the opening of the dungeon door, to see 
Gabord entering with a torch and a tray that held my 
frugal breakfast. He had added some brandy, also, of 
which I was glad, for it was bitter cold outside, as I dis- 
covered later. He was quiet, seeming often to wish to 
speak, but pausing before the act, never getting beyond 


THE COMING OP DOLTAIRE. 


121 


a stumbling oho I I greeted him cheerfully enough. 
After making a little toilette I drank my coffee with 
relish. At last I asked Gabord if no word had come to 
the citadel for me ; and he said none at all, nothing save 
a message from the Governor, before midnight, ordering 
certain matters. No more was said, until, turning to the 
door, he told me he would return to fetch me forth in a 
few minutes. But when halfway out he suddenly wheeled, 
came back, and blurted out, “ If you and I could only 
fight it out, m’sieu’ ! ’Tis ill for a gentleman and a sol- 
dier to die without thrust or parry.” 

“Gabord,” said I, smiling at him, “you preach good 
sermons always, and I never saw a man I’d rather fight 
and be killed by than you ! ” Then, with an attempt at 
rough humour, I added, “ But, as I told you once, the knot 
isn’t at my throat, and I’ll tie another one yet elsewhere 
if God loves honest men.” 

I had no hope at all, yet I felt I must say it. He 
nodded, but said nothing, and presently I was alone. 

I sat down on my straw couch and composed myself 
to think ; not upon my end, for my mind was made up 
as to that, but upon the girl who was so dear to me, whose 
life had crept into mine and filled it, making it of value 
in the world. It must not be thought that I no longer 
had care for our cause, for I would willingly have spent 
my life a hundred times for my country, as my best 
friends will bear witness ; but there comes a time when a 
man has a right to set all else aside but his own personal 
love and welfare, and to me the world was now bounded 
by just so much space as my dear Alixe might move in. 
I fastened my thought upon her face as I had last seen it. 
My eyes seemed to search for it also, and to find it in the 
torch which stuck out, softly sputtering, from the wall. 
I do not pretend, even at this distance of time, after hav- 
ing thought much over the thing, to give any good reason 


122 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


for so sudden a change as took place in me then and there. 
All at once a voice appeared to say to me, “ When you are 
gone she will he Doltaire’s. Kemember what she said. 
She fears him. He has a power over her.” 

Now, some will set it down to a low, unmanly jealousy 
and suspicion. It is hard to name it, but I know that I was 
seized with a misery so deep that all my past sufferings 
and disappointments, and even this present horror, were 
shadowy beside it. I pictured to myself Alixe in Dol- 
taire’s arms, after I had gone beyond human call. It is 
strange how an idea will seize us and master us, and an 
inconspicuous possibility suddenly stand out with huge 
distinctness. All at once I felt in my head “ the ring of 
fire ” of which Mathilde had warned me, a maddening 
heat filled my veins, and that hateful picture grew more 
vivid. Things Alixe had said the night before flashed to 
my mind, and I fancied that, unknown to herself even, 
he already had a substantial power over her. 

He had deep determination, the gracious subtlety which 
charms a woman, and she, hemmed in by his devices, over- 
come by his pleadings, attracted by his enviable personality, 
would come at last to his will. The evening before I had 
seen strong signs of the dramatic qualities of her nature. 
She had the gift of imagination, the epic spirit. Even 
three years previous I felt how she had seen every little in- 
cident of her daily life in a way which gave it vividness and 
distinction. All things touched her with delicate em- 
phasis — were etched upon her brain — or did not touch her 
at all. She would love the picturesque in life, though her 
own tastes were so simple and fine. Imagination would 
beset her path with dangers ; it would be to her, with her 
beauty, a fatal gift, a danger to herself and others. She 
would have power, and feeling it, womanlike, would use 
it, dissipating her emotions, paying out the sweetness of 
her soul, till one day a dramatic move, a strong pictur- 


THE COMING OF DOLTAIRE. 


123 


esque personality like Doltaire’s, would catch her from 
the moorings of her truth, and the end must be tragedy 
to her. Doltaire ! Doltaire ! The name burned into my 
brain. Some prescient quality in me awaked, and I saw 
her the sacrifice of her imagination, of the dramatic 
beauty of her nature, my enemy her tyrant and destroyer. 
He would leave nothing undone to achieve his end, and 
do nothing that would not in the end poison her soul 
and turn her very glories into miseries. How could she 
withstand the charm of his keen knowledge of the world, 
the fascination of his temperament, the alluring eloquence 
of his frank wickedness ? And I should rather a million 
times see her in her grave than passed through the atmos- 
phere of his life. 

This may seem madness, selfish and small ; but after- 
events went far to justify my fears and imaginings, for 
behind all there was a love, an aching, absorbing solici- 
tude. I can not think that my anxiety was all vulgar 
smallness then. 

I called him by coarse names as I tramped up and 
down my dungeon; I cursed him; impotent contempt 
was poured out on him ; in imagination I held him there 
before me, and choked him till his eyes burst out and his 
body grew limp in my arms. The ring of fire in my head 
scorched and narrowed till I could have shrieked in agony. 
My breath came short and laboured, and my heart felt as 
though it were in a vise and being clamped to nothing. 
For an instant, also, I broke out in wild bitterness against 
Alixe. She had said she would save me, and yet in an 
hour or less I should be dead. She had come to me last 
night— ah, true ; but that was in keeping with her dra- 
matic temperament ; it was the drama of it that had ap- 
pealed to her; and to-morrow she would forget me, and 
sink her fresh spirit in the malarial shadows of Doltaire’s. 

In my passion I thrust my hand into my waistcoat and 


124 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


unconsciously drew out something. At first my only feel- 
ing was that my hand could clinch it, but slowly a knowl- 
edge of it travelled to my brain, as if through clouds and 
vapours. Now I am no Catholic, I do not know that I 
am superstitious, yet when I became conscious that the 
thing I held was the wooden cross that Mathilde had given 
me, a weird feeling passed through me, and there was an 
arrest of the passions of mind and body ; a coolness passed 
over all my nerves, and my brain got clear again, the ring 
of fire loosing, melting away. It was a happy, diverting 
influence, which gave the mind rest fdr a moment, till the 
better spirit, the wiser feeling, had a chance to reassert 
itself ; but at the time it seemed to me almost supernatural. 

One can laugh when misery and danger are over, and 
it would be easy to turn this matter into ridicule, but from 
that hour to this the wooden cross which turned the flood 
of my feelings then into a saving channel has never left 
me. I keep it, not indeed for what it was, but for what 
it did. 

As I stood musing there came to my mind suddenly 
the words of a song which I had heard some voyageurs 
sing on the St. Lawrence as I sat on the cliff a hundred 
feet above them and watched them drift down in the 
twilight : 

“ Brothers, we go to the Scarlet Hills : 

(Little gold sun, come out of the dawn I) 

There we will meet in the cedar groves ; 

(Shining white dew, come down I) 

There is a bed where you sleep so sound. 

The little good folk of the hills will guard. 

Till the morning wakes and your love comes home. 

(Ply away, heart, to the Scarlet Hills !) ” 

Something in the half-mystical, half- Arcadian spirit of the 
words soothed me, lightened my thoughts, so that when, 
presently, Gabord opened the door and entered with four 


THE COMING OF DOLTAIRE. 


125 


soldiers I was calm enough for the great shift. Gabord 
did not speak, but set about pinioning me himself. I 
asked him if he could not let me go unpinioned, for it 
was ignoble to go to one’s death tied like a beast. At first 
he shook his head, but as if with a sudden impulse he cast 
the ropes aside, and, helping me on with my cloak, threw 
again over it a heavier cloak he had brought, gave me a 
fur cap to wear, and at last himself put on me a pair of 
woollen leggings, which, if they were no ornament, and to 
be of but transitory use (it seemed strange to me then 
that one should be caring for a body so soon to be cut off 
from all feeling), were most comforting when we came 
into the bitter, steely air. Gabord might easily have given 
these last tasks to the soldiers, but he was solicitous to 
perform them himself. Yet with surly brow and a rough 
accent he gave the word to go forward, and in a moment 
we were marching through the passages, up frosty steps, 
in the stone corridors, and on out of the citadel into the 
yard. 

I remember that as we passed into the open air I heard 
the voice of a soldier singing a gay air of love and war. 
Presently he came in sight. He saw me, stood still for a 
moment looking curiously, and then, taking up the song 
again at the very line where he had broken off, passed 
round an angle of the building and was gone. To him I 
was no more than a moth fluttering in the candle, to drop 
dead a moment later. 

It was just on the verge of sunrise. There was the 
grayish-blue light in the west, the top of a long range of 
forest was sharply outlined against it, and a timorous 
darkness was hurrying out of the zenith. In the east a 
sad, golden radiance was stealing up and driving back the 
mystery of the night and that weird loneliness of an arctic 
world. The city was hardly waking as yet, but straight 
silver columns of smoke rolled up out of many chimneys, 


126 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


and the golden cross on the cathedral caught the first rays 
of the sun. I was not interested in the city ; I had now, 
as I thought, done with men. Besides the four soldiers 
who had brought me out, another squad surrounded me, 
commanded by a young officer whom I recognised as Cap- 
tain Lancy, the rough roysterer who had insulted me at 
Bigot’s palace over a year ago. I looked with a spirit ab- 
sorbed upon the world about me, and a hundred thoughts 
which had to do with man’s life passed through my mind. 
But the young officer, speaking sharply to me, ordered me 
on, and changed the current of my thoughts. The coarse- 
ness of the man and his insulting words were hard to bear, 
so that I was constrained to ask him if it were not cus- 
tomary to protect a condemned man from insult rather 
than to expose him to it. I said that I should be glad of 
my last moments in peace. At that he asked Gabord why 
I was unbound, and my jailer answered that binding was 
for criminals who were to be hanged ! 

I could scarcely believe my ears. I was to be shot, not 
hanged. I had a thrill of gratitude which I can not de- 
scribe. It may seem a nice distinction, but to me there 
were whole seas between the two modes of death. I need 
not blush in advance for being shot — my friends could 
bear that without humiliation; but hanging would always 
have tainted their memory of me, try as they would 
against it. 

“ The gallows is ready, and my orders were to see him 
hanged,” Mr. Lancy said. 

“ An order came at midnight that he should be shot,” 
was Gabord’s reply, producing the order and handing it 
over. 

The officer contemptuously tossed it back, and now, a 
little more courteous, ordered me against the wall, and I 
let my cloak fall to the ground. I was placed where, 
looking east, 1 could see the Island of Orleans, on which 


THE COMING OF DOLTAIRE. 


127 


was the summer-house of the Seigneur Duvarney. Ga- 
bord came to me and said, “ M’sieu’, you are a brave 
man ” — then, all at once breaking off, he added in a low, 
hurried voice, “ ’Tis not a long flight to heaven, m’sieu’ ! ” 
I could see his face twitching as he stood looking at me. 
He hardly dared to turn round to his comrades, lest his 
emotion should be seen. But the officer roughly ordered 
him back. Gabord coolly drew out his watch, and made 
a motion to me not to take off my cloak yet. 

“ ’Tis not the time by six minutes,” he said. “ The 
gentleman is to be shot to the stroke- -aho ! ” His voice 
and manner were dogged. The officer stepped forward 
threateningly ; but Gabord said something angrily in an 
undertone, and the other turned on his heel and began 
walking up and down. This continued for a moment, in 
which we all were very still and bitter cold — the air cut 
like steel — and then my heart gave a great leap, for 
suddenly there stepped into the yard Doltaire. Action 
seemed suspended in me, but I know I listened with 
singular curiosity to the shrill creaking of his boots on 
the frosty earth, and I noticed that the fur collar of the 
coat he wore was all white with the frozen moisture of 
his breath, also that tiny icicles hung from his eyelashes. 
He came down the yard slowly, and presently paused and 
looked at Gabord and the young officer, his head laid a 
little to one side in a quizzical fashion, his eyelids 
drooping. 

“ What time was monsieur to be shot ? ” he asked of 
Captain Lancy. 

“ At seven o’clock, monsieur,” was the reply. 

Doltaire took out his watch. “ It wants three minutes 
of seven,” said he. “ What the devil means this business 
before the stroke o’ the hour ? ” waving a hand towards me. 

“We were waiting for the minute, monsieur,” was 
the officer’s reply. 


128 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


A cynical, cutting smile crossed Doltaire’s face. “ A 
charitable trick, upon my soul, to fetch a gentleman from 
a warm dungeon and stand him against an icy wall on a 
deadly morning to cool his heels as he waits for his hour 
to die ! You’d skin your lion and shoot him afterwards 
— voila ! ” All this time he held the watch in his 
hand. 

“ You, Gabord,” he went on, “ you are a man to obey 
orders — eh ? ” 

Gabord hesitated a moment as if waiting for Lancy to 
speak, and then said, “ I was not in command. When I 
was called upon I brought him forth.” 

“Excuses! excuses! You sweated to be rid of your 
charge.” 

Gabord’s face lowered. “ M’sieu’ would have been in 
heaven by this if I hadn’t stopped it,” he broke out 
angrily. 

Doltaire turned sharply on Lancy. “I thought as 
much,” said he, “ and you would have let Gabord share 
your misdemeanour. Yet your father was a gentleman ! 
If you had shot monsieur before seven, you would have 
taken the dungeon he left. You must learn, my young 
provincial, that you are not to supersede France and the 
King. It is now seven o’clock ; you will march your men 
back inte quarters.” 

Then turning to me, he raised his cap. “You will 
find your cloak more comfortable, Captain Moray,” said 
he, and he motioned Gabord to hand it to me, as he came 
forward. “May I breakfast with you?” he added cour- 
teously. He yawned a little. “ I have not risen so early 
in years, and I am chilled to the bone. Gabord insists 
that it is warm in your dungeon; I have a fancy to 
breakfast there. It will recall my year in the Bastile.” 

He smiled in a quaint, elusive sort of fashion, and as I 
drew the cloak about me I said through chattering teeth, 


THE COMING OP DOLTAIRE. 


129 


for I had suffered with the brutal cold, “I am glad to 
have the chance to offer breakfast.” 

“ To me or any one ? ” he dryly suggested. “ Think ! 
by now, had I not come, you might have been in a 
warmer world than this — indeed, much warmer,” he sud- 
denly said, as he stooped, picked up some snow in his 
bare hand and clapped it to my cheek, rubbing it with 
force and swiftness. The cold had nipped it, and this 
was the way to draw out the frost. His solicitude at the 
moment was so natural and earnest that it was hard to 
think he was my enemy. 

When he had rubbed awhile, he gave me his own 
handkerchief to dry my face; and so perfect was his 
courtesy, it was impossible to do otherwise than meet 
him as he meant and showed for the moment. He had 
stepped between me and death, and even an enemy who 
does that, no matter what the motive, deserves something 
at your hands. 

“ Gabord,” he said, as we stepped inside the citadel, 
“we will breakfast at eight o’clock. Meanwhile I have 
some duties with our officers here. Till we meet in your 
dining-hall, then, monsieur,” he added to me, and raised 
his cap. 

“ You must put up with frugal fare,” I answered, 
bowing. 

“ If you but furnish locusts,” he said gaily, “ I will 
bring the wild honey. . . . What wonderful hives of bees 
they have at the Seigneur Duvarney’s!” he continued 
musingly, as if with second thought ; “ a beautiful manor 
— a place for pretty birds and honey-bees ! ” 

His eyelids drooped languidly, as was their way when 
he had said something a little carbolic, as this was to me 
because of its hateful suggestion. His words drew noth- 
ing from me, not even a look of understanding, and again 
bowing we went our ways. 


ISO 


THE SEATS OE THE MIGHTY. 


At the door of the dungeon Gabord held the torch up 
to my face. His own had a look which came as near to 
being gentle as was possible to him. Yet he was so ugly 
that it appeared almost ludicrous in him. 

” said he. “ A friend at court. More com- 
fits.” 

“You think Monsieur Doltaire gets comfits too?” 
asked I. 

He rubbed his cheek with a key. “ Aho ! ” mused he 
— “ aho ! M’sieu’ Doltaire rises not early for naught.” 


XII. 

“THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO ! ” 

I WAS roused by the opening of the door. Doltaire en- 
tered. He advanced towards me with the manner of an 
admired comrade, and, with no trace of what would mark 
him as my foe, said, as he sniffed the air : 

“Monsieur, I have been selfish. I asked myself to 
breakfast with you, yet, while I love the new experience, 
I will deny myself in this. You shall breakfast with me, 
as you pass to your new lodgings. You must not say no,” 
he added, as though we were in some salon. “ I have a 
sleigh here at the door, and a fellow has already gone to 
fan my kitchen fires and forage for the table. Come,” 
he continued, “ let me help you with your cloak.” 

He threw my cloak around me, and turned towards 
the door. I had not spoken a word, for what with weak- 
ness, the announcement that I was to have new lodgings, 
and the sudden change in my affairs, I was like a child 
walking in its sleep. I could do no more than bow to 
him and force a smile, which must have told more than 
aught else of my state, for he stepped to my side and 


THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO! 


131 


offered me his arm. I drew back from that with thanks, 
for I felt a quick hatred of myself that I should take fa- 
vours from the man who had moved for my destruction 
and to wickedly steal from me my promised wife. Yet 
it was my duty to live if I could, to escape if that were 
possible, to use every means to foil my enemies. It was 
all a game ; why should I not accept advances at my 
enemy’s hands, and match dissimulation with dissimula- 
tion ? 

When I refused his arm he smiled comically, and 
raised his shoulders in deprecation. 

“ You forget your dignity, monsieur,” I said presently 
as we walked on, Gabord meeting us and lighting us 
through the passages ; “ you voted me a villain, a spy, at 
my trial ! ” 

“Technically and publicly, you are a spy, a vulgar 
criminal,” he replied ; “ privately, you are a foolish, blun- 
dering gentleman.” 

“ A soldier also, you will admit, who keeps his com- 
pact with his enemy.” 

“Otherwise we should not breakfast together this 
morning,” he answered. “What difference would it 
make to this government if our private matter had been 
dragged in ? Technically you still would have been the 
spy. But I will say this, monsieur, to me you are a man 
better worth torture than death.” 

“ Do you ever stop to think of how this may end foi 
you ? ” I asked quietly. 

He seemed pleased at the question. “ I have thought 
it might be interesting,” he answered ; “ else, as I said, 
you should long ago have left this naughty world. Is 
it in your mind that we shall cross swords one day ? ” 

“I feel it in my bones,” said I, “ that I shall kill you.” 

At that moment we stood at the entrance to the cita- 
del, where a good pair of horses and a sleigh awaited 


132 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


us. We got in, the robes were piled around us, and the 
horses started off at a long trot. I was muffled to the 
ears, but I could see how white and beautiful was the 
world, how the frost glistened in the trees, how the bal- 
sams were weighted down with snow, and how snug the 
chateaux looked with the smoke curling up from their 
hunched chimneys. 

Presently Doltaire replied to my last remark. “ Con- 
viction is the executioner of the stupid,” said he. “ When 
a man is not great enough to let change and chance guide 
him he gets convictions and dies a fool.” 

“ Conviction has made men and nations strong,” I 
rejoined. 

“ Has made men and nations asses,” he retorted. “ The 
Mohammedan has conviction, so has the Christian : they 
die fighting each other, and the philosopher sits by and 
laughs. Expediency, monsieur, expediency is the real 
wisdom, the true master of this world. Expediency saved 
your life to-day ; conviction would have sent you to a starry 
home.” 

As he spoke a thought came in on me. Here we were 
in the open world, travelling together, without a guard of 
any kind. Was it not possible to make a dash for free- 
dom ? The idea was put away from me, and yet it was a 
fresh accent of Doltaire’s character that he tempted me in 
this way. As if he divined what I thought, he said to me 
— for I made no attempt to answer his question : 

“Men of sense never confuse issues or choose the 
wrong time for their purposes. Foes may have unwritten 
truces.” 

There was the matter in a nutshell. He had done 
nothing carelessly ; he was touching off our conflict with 
flashes of genius. He was the man who had roused in me 
last night the fiercest passions of my life, and yet this 
morning he had saved me from death, and though he 


“THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO!” I33 

was still my sworn enemy I was about to breakfast with 
him. 

Already the streets of the town were filling ; for it was 
the day before Christmas, and it would be the great mar- 
ket-day of the year. Few noticed us as we sped along 
down Palace Street, and I could not conceive whither we 
were going, until, passing the Hotel Dieu, I saw in front 
of us the Intendance. I remembered the last time I was 
there and what had happened then, and a thought fiashed 
through me that perhaps this was another trap. But I 
put it from me, and soon afterwards Doltaire said : 

“ I have now a slice of the Intendance for my own, and 
we shall breakfast like squirrels in a loft.” 

As we drove into the open space before the palace a 
company of soldiers standing before the great door began 
marching up to the road by which we came. With them 
was a prisoner. I saw at once that he was a British officer, 
but I did not recognise his face. I asked his name of 
Doltaire and found it was one Lieutenant Stevenson, of 
Kogers’s Rangers, those brave Hew- Englanders. After an 
interview with Bigot he was being taken to the common 
jail. To my request that I might speak with him Dol- 
taire assented, and at a sign from my companion the sol- 
diers stopped. Stevenson’s eyes were fixed on me with a 
puzzled, disturbed expression. He was well built, of in- 
trepid bearing, with a fine openness of manner joined to 
handsome features. But there was a recklessness in his 
eye which seemed to me to come nearer the swashbuckling 
character of a young French seigneur than the wariness of 
a British soldier. 

I spoke his name and introduced myself. His surprise 
and pleasure were pronounced, for he had thought (as he 
said) that by this time I should be dead. There was an 
instant’s fiash of his eye, as if a suspicion of my loyalty 
had crossed his mind ; but it was gone on the instant, and 
10 


134 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


immediately Doltaire, who also had interpreted the look, 
smiled, and said he had carried me off to breakfast while 
the furniture of my former prison was being shifted to my 
new one. After a word or two more, with Stevenson’s as- 
surance that the British had recovered from Braddock’s 
defeat and would presently be knocking at the portals of 
the Chateau St. Louis, we parted, and soon Doltaire and I 
got out at the high stone steps of the palace. 

Standing there for a moment I looked round. In this 
space surrounding the Intendance was gathered the his- 
tory of New France. This palace, large enough for the 
king of a European country with a population of a mil- 
lion, was the official residence of the commercial ruler of 
a province. It was the house of the miller, and across the 
way was the King’s storehouse. La Friponne, where poor 
folk were ground between the stones. The great square 
was already filling with people who had come to trade. 
Here were barrels of malt being unloaded ; there, great 
sacks of grain, bags of dried fruits, bales of home-made 
cloth, and loads of fine-sawn boards and timber. Moving 
about among the peasants were the regular soldiers in 
their white uniforms faced with blue, red, yellow, or vio- 
let, with black three-cornered hats, and black gaiters from 
foot to knee, and the militia in coats of white with black 
facings. Behind a great collar of dogskin a pair of jet- 
black eyes flashed out from under a pretty forehead ; and 
presently one saw these same eyes grown sorrowful or dull 
under heavy knotted brows, which told of a life too vexed 
by care and labour to keep alive a spark of youth’s ro- 
mance. Now the bell in the tower above us rang a short 
peal, the signal for the opening of La Friponne, and the 
bustling crowd moved towards its doors. As I stood there 
on the great steps, I chanced to look along the plain, bare 
front of the palace to an annex at the end, and standing 
in a doorway opening on a pair of steps was Voban. I 


“THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO! 


135 


was amazed that he should be there — the man whose life 
had been spoiled by Bigot. At the same moment Doltaire 
motioned to him to return inside ; which he did. 

Doltaire laughed at my surprise, and, as he showed me 
inside the palace, said : “ There is no barber in the world 
like Voban. Interesting ! interesting ! I love to watch 
his eye when he draws the razor down my throat. It 
would be so easy to fetch it across ; but Voban, as you see, 
is not a man of absolute conviction. It will be sport, some 
day, to put Bigot’s valet to bed with a broken leg or a fit 
of spleen, and send Voban to shave him.” 

“Where is Mathilde?” I asked, as though I knew 
naught of her whereabouts. 

“ Mathilde is where none may touch her, monsieur : 
even under the protection of the daintiest lady of New 
France. It is her whim ; and when a lady is charming, 
an Intendant, even, must not trouble her caprice.” 

He did not need to speak more plainly. It was he 
who had prevented Bigot from taking Mathilde away 
from Alixe and locking her up, or worse. I said noth- 
^ing, however, and soon we were in a large room sumptu- 
..asly furnished, looking out on the great square. The 
morning sun stared in, some snowbirds twittered on the 
window-sill, and inside, a canary, in an alcove hung with 
plants and fiowers, sang as if it were the heart of summer. 
All was warm and comfortable, and it was like a dream 
that I had just come from the dismal chance of a miser- 
able death. My cloak and cap and leggings had been taken 
from me when I entered, as courteously as though I had 
been King Louis himself, and a great chair was drawn 
solicitously to the fire. All this was done by the servant, 
after one quick look from Doltaire. The man seemed 
to understand his master perfectly, to read one look as 
though it were a volume — 

“ The constant service of the antique world.” 


136 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


Such was Doltaire’s influence. The closer you came 
to him, the more compelling was he — a devilish attrac- 
tion, notably selfish, yet capable of benevolence. Two 
years before this time I saw him lift a load from the back 
of a peasant woman and carry it home for her, putting 
into her hand a gold piece on leaving. At another time, 
an old man had died of a foul disease in a miserable upper 
room of a warehouse. Doltaire was passing at the moment 
when the body should be carried to burial. The stricken 
widow of the dead man stood below, waiting, but no one 
would fetch forth the corpse. Doltaire stopped and ques- 
tioned her kindly, and in another minute he was driving 
the carter and another upstairs at the point of his sword. 
Together they brought the body down, and Doltaire fol- 
lowed it to the burying-ground, keeping the gravedigger 
at his task when he would have run away, and saying the 
responses to the priest in the short service read above the 
grave. 

I said to him then, “ You rail at the world and scoff at 
men and many decencies, and yet you do these things ! ” 

To this he replied — he was in my own lodgings at the 
time — “ The brain may call all men liars and fools, but the 
senses feel the shock of misery which we do not ourselves 
inflict. Inflicting, we are prone to cruelty, as you have seen 
a schoolmaster begin punishment with tears, grow angry 
at the shrinking back under his cane, and give way to a 
sudden lust of torture. I have little pity for those who 
can help themselves — let them fight or eat the leek ; but 
the child and the helpless and the sick it is a pleasure to 
aid. I love the poor as much as I love anything. I could 
live their life, if I were put to it. As a gentleman, I hate 
squalor and the puddles of wretchedness: but I could 
have worked at the plough or the anvil ; I could have dug 
in the earth till my knuckles grew big and my shoulders 
hardened to a roundness, have eaten my beans and pork 


“THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO I” 13^ 

and pea-soup, and have been a healthy ox, munching the 
bread of industry and trailing the puissant pike, an obe- 
dient serf. I have no ethics, and yet I am on the side of 
the just when they do not put thorns in my bed to keep 
me awake at night ! ” 

Upon the walls hung suits of armour, swords of beauti- 
ful make, spears, belts of wonderful workmanship, a tat- 
tered banner, sashes knit by ladies’ fingers, pouches, ban- 
doleers, and many agreeable sketches of scenes that I knew 
well. Now and then a woman’s head in oils or pencil 
peeped out from the abundant ornaments. I recalled 
then another thing he said at that time of which I 
write : 

“I have never juggled with my conscience — never 
* made believe ’ with it. My will was always stronger than 
my wish for anything, always stronger than temptation. 
I have chosen this way or that deliberately. I am ever 
ready to face consequences, and I never cry out. It is 
the ass undeserving of either reward or punishment who 
says that something carried him away, and, being weak, 
he fell. That is a poor man who is no stronger than 
his passions. I can understand the devil fighting God, 
and taking the long punishment without repentance, like 
a powerful prince as he was. I could understand a peas- 
ant killing King Louis in the palace, and being ready, if 
he had a hundred lives, to give them all, having done the 
deed he set out to do. If a man must have convictions 
of that sort, he can escape everlasting laughter — the final 
hell— only by facing the rebound of his wild deeds.” 

These were strange sentiments in the mouth of a man 
who was ever the mannered courtier, and as I sat there 
alone, while he was gone elsewhere for some minutes, 
many such things he had said came back to me, sug- 
gested, no doubt, by this new, inexplicable attitude to- 
wards myself. I could trace some of his sentiments, per- 


138 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


haps vaguely, to the fact that — as I had come to know 
through the Seigneur Duvarney — his mother was of peas- 
ant blood, the beautiful daughter of a farmer of Poictiers, 
who had died soon after giving birth to Doltaire. His 
peculiar nature had shown itself in his refusal to accept a 
title. It was his whim to be the plain “ Monsieur ” ; be- 
hind which was, perhaps, some native arrogancy that 
made him prefer this to being a noble whose origin, 
well known, must ever interfere with his ambitions. 
Then, too, maybe, the peasant in him — never in his face 
or form, which were patrician altogether — spoke for more 
truth and manliness than he was capable of, and so he 
chose to be the cynical, irresponsible courtier, while many 
of his instincts had urged him to the peasant’s integrity. 
He had undisturbed however one instinct of the peasant 
— a good directness, evident mostly in the clearness of his 
thoughts. 

As these things hurried through my mind, my body 
sunk in a kind of restfulness before the great fire, Doltaire 
came back. 

“ I will not keep you from breakfast,” said he. “ Voban 
must wait, if you will pass by untidiness.” 

A thought flashed through my mind. Perhaps Voban 
had some word for me from Alixe ! So I said instantly, 
“ I am not hungry. Perhaps you will let me wait yonder 
while Voban tends you.' As you said, it should be inter- 
esting.” 

“ You will not mind the disorder of my dressing-room? 
Well, then, this way, and we can talk while Voban plays 
with temptation.” 

So saying, he courteously led the way into another 
chamber where Voban stood waiting. I spoke to him, 
and he bowed but did not speak; and then Doltaire 
said : 

“ You see, Voban, your labour on monsieur was wasted 


THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO I 


139 


so far concerns the world to come. You trimmed him 
for the glorious company of the apostles, and see, he 
breakfasts with Monsieur Doltaire — in the Intendance, 
too, my Voban, which, as you know, is wicked — a very 
nest of wasps ! ” 

I never saw more hate than shot out of Voban’s eyes 
at that moment ; but the lids drooped over them at once, 
and he made ready for his work, as Doltaire, putting aside 
his coat, seated himself, laughing. There was no little 
daring, as there was cruelty, in thus torturing a man 
whose life had been broken by Doltaire’s associate. I 
wondered now and then if Doltaire were not really put- 
ting acid on the barber’s bare nerves for some other pur- 
pose than mere general cruelty. Even as he would have 
understood the peasant’s murder of King Louis, so he 
would have seen a logical end to a terrible game in Bigot’s 
death at the hand of Voban. Possibly he wondered that 
Voban did not strike, and he himself took delight in 
showing him his own wrongs occasionally. Then, again, 
Doltaire might wish for Bigot’s death, to succeed him 
in his place ! But this I put by as improbable, for the 
Intendant’s post was not his ambition, or, favourite of La 
Pompadour as he was, he would, desiring, have long ago 
achieved that end. Moreover, every evidence showed that 
he would gladly return to France, for his clear brain fore- 
saw the final ruin of the colony and the triumph of the 
British. He had once said in my hearing : 

“ Those swaggering Englishmen will keep coming on. 
They are too stupid to turn back. The eternal sameness 
of it all will so distress us we shall awake one morning, 
find them at our bedsides, give a kick, and die from sheer 
ennui. They’ll use our banners to boil their fat puddings 
in, they’ll roast oxen in the highways, and after our 
girls have married them they’ll turn them into kitchen 
wenches with frowsy skirts and ankles like beeves ! ” 


140 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


But, indeed, benea^th his dangerous irony there was a 
strain of impishness, and he would, if need be, laugh at 
his own troubles, and torture himself as he had tortured 
others. This morning he was full of a carbolic humour. 
As the razor came to his neck he said ; 

“Voban, a barber must have patience. It is a sad 
thing to mistake friend for enemy. What is a friend ? Is 
it one who says sweet words ? ” 

There was a pause, in which the shaving went on, and 
then he continued : 

“Is it he who says, I have eaten Voban’s bread, and 
Voban shall therefore go to prison or be hurried to Wal- 
halla? Or is it he who stays the iron hand, who puts 
nettles in Yoban’s cold, cold bed, that he may rise early 
and go forth among the heroes ? ” 

I do not think Voban understood that, through some 
freak of purpose, Doltaire was telling him thus obliquely 
he had saved him from Bigot’s cruelty, from prison or 
death. Once or twice he glanced at me, but not mean- 
ingly, for Doltaire was seated opposite a mirror, and could 
see each motion made by either of us. Presently Doltaire 
said to me idly : 

“ I dine to-day at the Seigneur Duvarney’s. You will 
be glad to hear that mademoiselle bids fair to rival the 
charming Madame Cournal. Her followers are as many, 
so they say, and all in one short year she has suddenly 
thrown out a thousand new faculties and charms. Doubt- 
less you remember she was gifted, hut who would have 
thought she could have blossomed so ! She was all light 
and softness and air ; she is now all fire and skill as well. 
Matchless ! matchless ! Every day sees her with some 
new capacity, some fresh and delicate aplomb. She has 
set the town admiring, and jealous’ mothers prophesy trist 
ending for her. Her swift mastery of the social arts is 
weird, they say. La ! la ! The social arts ! A good brain, 


*‘THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO I’'^ 141 

a gift of penetration, a manner — which is a grand neces- 
sity, and it must be with birth — and no heart to speak of, 
and the rest is easy. No heart — there is the thing ; with 
a good brain and senses all warm with life — to feel, but 
never to have the arrow strike home. You must never 
think to love and be loved, and be wise too. The emo- 
tions blind the judgment. Be heartless, be perfect with 
heavenly artifice, and, if you are a woman, have no vitriol 
on your tongue — and you may rule at Versailles or Quebec. 
But with this difference: in Quebec you maybe virtuous; 
at Versailles you must not. It is a pity that you may not 
meet Mademoiselle Duvarney. She would astound you. 
She was a simple ballad a year ago ; to-morrow she may 
be an epic.” 

He nodded at me reflectively, and went on : 

“ ‘ Mademoiselle,’ said the Chevalier de la Darante to 
her at dinner, some weeks ago, ‘ if I were young, I should 
adore you.’ ‘ Monsieur,’ she answered, ‘ you use that “ if ” 
to shirk the responsibility.’ That put him on his mettle. 

‘ Then, by the gods, I adore you now ! ’ he answered. ‘ If 
I were young, I should blush to hear you say so,’ was her 
reply. ‘ I empty out my heart, and away trips the dis- 
dainful nymph with a laugh,’ he rejoined gaily, the rusty 
old courtier; ‘there’s nothing left but to fall upon my 
sword ! ’ ‘ Disdainful nymphs are the better scabbards 

for distinguished swords,’ she said, with charming cour- 
tesy. Then, laughing softly, ‘ There is an Egyptian 
proverb which runs thus : “ If thou, Dol, son of Hoshti, 
hast emptied out thy heart, and it bring no fruit in ex- 
change, curse not thy gods and die, but build a pyramid 
in the vineyard where thy love was spent, and write upon 
it. Pride hath no conqueror P ’ It is a mind for a palace, 
is it not ? ” 

I could see in the mirror facing him the provoking 
devilry of his eyes. I knew that he was trying how much 


142 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


he could stir me. He guessed my love for her, but I 
could see he was sure that she no longer — if she ever had 
— thought of me. Besides, with a lover’s understanding, 
I saw also that he liked to talk of her. His eyes, in the 
mirror, did not meet mine, but were fixed, as on some 
distant and pleasing prospect, though there was, as al- 
ways, a slight disdain at his mouth. But the eyes were 
clear, resolute, and strong, never wavering — and I never 
saw them waver — yet in them something distant and in- 
scrutable. It was a candid eye, and he was candid in his 
evil ; he made no pretence ; and though the means to his 
ends were wicked, they were never low. Presently, glanc- 
ing round the room, I saw an easel on which was a can- 
vas. He caught my glance. 

“ Silly work for a soldier and a gentleman,” he said, 
“ but silliness is a great privilege. It needs as much skill 
to carry folly well as to be an ambassador. Now, you are 
often much too serious, Captain Moray.” 

At that he rose, and, after putting on his coat, came 
over to the easel and threw up the cloth, exposing a por- 
trait of Alixe! It had been painted in by a few bold 
strokes, full of force and life, yet giving her face more 
of that look which comes to women bitterly wise in the 
ways of this world than I cared to see. The treatment 
was daring, and it cut me like a knife that the whole 
painting had a red glow: the dress was red, the light 
falling on the hair was red, the shine of the eyes was 
red also. It was fascinating, but weird, and, to me, dis- 
tressful. There flashed through my mind the remem- 
brance of Mathilde in her scarlet robe as she stood on 
the Heights that momentous night of my arrest. I looked 
at the picture in silence. He kept gazing at it with a 
curious, half-quizzical smile, as if he were unconscious 
of my presence. At last he said, with a slight knitting 
of his brows : 


THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO! 


143 


“ It is strange — strange. I sketched that in two nights 
ago, by the light of the fire, after I had come from the 
Chdteau St. Louis — from memory, as you see. It never 
struck me where the effect was taken from, that singular 
glow over all the face and figure. But now I see it ; it 
returns : it is the impression of colour in the senses, left 
from the night that lady-bug Mathilde fiashed out on the 
Heights ! A fine — a fine effect ! H’m ! for another such 
one might give another such Mathilde 1 ” 

At that moment we were both startled by a sound be- 
hind us, and, wheeling, we saw Voban, a look of rage in 
his face, in the act of throwing at Doltaire a short spear 
which he had caught up from a corner. The spear flew 
from his hand even as Doltaire sprang aside, drawing his 
sword with great swiftness. I thought he must have been 
killed, but the rapidity of his action saved him, for the 
spear passed his shoulder so close that it tore away a shred 
of his coat and stuck in the wall behind him. In another 
instant Doltaire had his sword-point at Voban’s throat. 
The man did not cringe, did not speak a word, but his 
hands clinched and the muscles of his face worked pain- 
fully. At first there was a fury in Doltaire’s face and a 
metallic hardness in his eyes, and I was sure he meant to 
pass his sword through the other’s body ; but after stand- 
ing for a moment, death hanging on his sword-point, he 
quietly lowered his weapon, and, sitting on a chair-arm, 
looked curiously at Voban, as one might sit and watch a 
liiad animal within a cage. Voban did not stir, but stood 
r‘ooted to the spot, his eyes never moving from Doltaire. 
It was clear that he had looked for death, and now ex- 
pected punishment and prison. Doltaire took out his 
handkerchief and wiped a sweat from his cheeks. He 
turned to me soon, and said, in a singularly impersonal 
way, as though he were speaking of some animal : 

“ He had great provocation. The Duchess de Valois 


144 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


had a young panther once which she had brought up 
from the milk. She was inquisitive, and used to try its 
temper. It was good sport, but one day she took away 
its food, gave it to the cat, and pointed her finger at 
monsieur the panther. The Duchess de Valois never 
bared her breast thereafter to an admiring world — a pan- 
ther’s claws leave scars.” He paused, and presently con- 
tinued : “ You remember it, Yoban ; you were the Duke’s 
valet then — you see I recall you ! Well, the panther lost 
his head, both figuratively and in fact. The panther did 
not mean to kill, maybe, but to kill the lady’s beauty was 
death to her. . . . Voban, yonder spear was poisoned !” 

He wiped his face, and said to me, “ I think you saw 
that at the dangerous moment I had no fear; yet now 
when the game is in my own hands my cheek runs with 
cold sweat. How easy to be charged with cowardice ! 
Like evaporation, the hot breath of peril passing sud- 
denly into the cold air of safety leaves this ! ” — he wiped 
his cheek again. 

He rose, moved slowly to Voban, and, pricking him 
with his sword, said, “ You are a bungler, barber. Now 
listen. I never wronged you ; I have only been your blis- 
ter. I prick your sores at home. Tut ! tut ! they prick 
them openly in the market-place. I gave you life a min- 
ute ago ; I give you freedom now. Some day I may ask 
that life for a day’s use, and then, Voban, then will you 
give it ? ” 

There was a moment’s pause, and the barber an- 
swered, “M’sieu’, I owe you nothing. I would have 
killed you then ; you may kill me, if you will.” 

Doltaire nodded musingly. Something was passing 
through his mind. I judged he was thinking that here 
was a man who, as a servant, would be invaluable. 

Well, well, we can discuss the thing at leisure, 
Voban, he said at last. Meanwhile you may wait here 


THE POINT ENVENOMED TOO! 


145 


till Captain Moray has breakfasted, and then you shall be 
at his service ; and I would have a word with you, also.” 

Turning with a polite gesture to me, he led the way 
into the breakfast-room, and at once, half famished, I was 
seated at the table, drinking a glass of good wine, aiKi 
busy with a broiled whitefish of delicate quality. We 
were silent for a time, and the bird in the alcove kept 
singing as though it were in Eden, while chiming in be- 
tween the rhythms there came the silvery sound of sleigh- 
bells from the world without. I was in a sort of dream, 
and I felt there must be a rude awakening soon. After a 
while, Doltaire, who seemed thinking keenly, ordered the 
servant to take in a glass of wine to Voban. 

He looked up at me after a little, as if he had come 
back from a long distance, and said, “ It is my fate to 
have as foes the men I would have as friends, and as 
friends the men I would have as foes. The cause of 
my friends is often bad ; the cause of my enemies is some- 
times good. It is droll. I love directness, yet I have ever 
been the slave of complication. I delight in following 
my reason, yet I have been of the motes that stumble in 
the sunlight. I have enough cruelty in me, enough self- 
ishness and will, to be a ruler, and yet I have never held 
an office in my life. I love true diplomacy, yet I have 
been comrade to the official liar and am the captain of 
intrigue — la ! la ! ” 

“You have never had an enthusiasm, a purpose?” 
said I. 

He laughed, a dry, ironical laugh. “ I have both an 
enthusiasm and a purpose,” he answered, “ or you would 
by now be snug in bed forever.” 

I knew what he meant, though he could not guess I 
understood. He was referring to Alixe and the challenge 
she had given him. I did not feel that I had anything to 
get by playing a part of friendliness, and besides, he was 


146 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


a man to whom the boldest speaking was always palatable, 
even when most against himself. 

“ I am sure neither would bear daylight,” said I. 

“ Why, I almost blush to say that they are both hon- 
est — would at this moment endure a moral microscope. 
The experience, I confess, is new, and has the glamour 
of originality.” 

“ It will not stay honest,” I retorted. “ Honesty is a 
new toy with you. You will break it on the first rock 
that shows.” 

“ I wonder,” he answered, “ I wonder, . . . and yet I 
suppose you are right. Some devilish incident will twist 
things out of gear, and then the old Adam must impro- 
vise for safety and success. Yes, I suppose my one beau- 
tiful virtue will get a twist.” 

What he had said showed me his mind as in a mirror. 
He had no idea that I had the key to his enigmas. I felt 
as had Voban in the other room. I could see that he had 
set his mind on Alixe, and that she had roused in him 
what was perhaps the first honest passion of his life. 

What further talk we might have had I can not tell, 
but while we were smoking and drinking coffee the door 
opened suddenly, and the servant said : 

“ His Excellency the Marquis de Vaudreuil ! ” 

Doltaire got to his feet, a look of annoyance crossing 
his face ; but he courteously met the Governor, and placed 
a chair for him. The Governor, however, said frostily, 
“Monsieur Doltaire, it must seem difficult for Captain 
Moray to know who is Governor in Canada, since he has 
so many masters. I am not sure who needs assurance 
most upon the point, you or he. This is the second time 
he has been feasted at the Intendance when he should 
have been in prison. I came too late that other time ; 
now it seems I am opportune.” 

Doltaire’s reply was smooth: “Your Excellency will 


A LITTLE BOAST.’ 


147 


pardon the liberty. The Intendance was a sort of half- 
way house between the citadel and the jail.” 

“ There is news from France,” the Governor said, 
“ brought from Gaspe. We meet in council at the Cha- 
teau in an hour. A guard is without to take Captain 
Moray to the common jail.” 

In a moment more, after a courteous good-by from 
Doltaire, and a remark from the Governor to the effect 
that I had spoiled his night’s sleep to no purpose, I was 
soon on my way to the common jail, where arriving, what 
was my pleased surprise to see Gabord ! He had been 
told off to be my especial guard, his services at the citadel 
having been deemed so efficient. He was outwardly surly 
— as rough as he ever was before the world, and, without 
speaking a word to me, he had a soldier lock me in a cell. 


XIII. 

“A LITTLE BOAST.” 

My new abode was more cheerful than the one I had 
quitted in the citadel. It was not large, but it had a 
window, well barred, through which came the good strong 
light of the northern sky. A wooden bench for my bed 
stood in one corner, and, what cheered me much, there 
was a small iron stove. Apart from warmth, its fire would 
be companionable, and to tend it a means of passing the 
time. Almost the first thing I did was to examine it. It 
was round, and shaped like a small bulging keg on end. 
It had a lid on top and in the side a small door with bars 
for draught, suggesting to me in little the delight of a 
fireplace. A small pipe carried ^way the smoke into a 
chimney in the wall. It seemed to me luxurious, and 
my spirits came back apace. 


148 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


There was no fire yet, and it was bitter cold, so that I 
took to walking np and down to keep warmth in me. I 
was ill nourished, and I felt the cold intensely. But I 
trotted up and down, plans of escape already running 
through my head. I was as far off as you can imagine 
from that event of the early morning when I stood wait- 
ing, half frozen, to be shot by Lancy’s men. 

After I had been walking swiftly up and down for an 
hour or more, slapping my hands against my sides to keep 
them warm — for it was so cold I ached and felt a nausea 
— I was glad to see Gabord enter with a soldier carrying 
wood and shavings. I do not think I could much longer 
have borne the chilling air — a dampness, too, had risen 
from the floor, which had been washed that morning — 
for my clothes were very light in texture and much worn. 
I had had but the one suit since I entered the dungeon 
in the citadel, for my other suit, which was by no means 
smart, had been taken from me when I was imprisoned 
the year before. As if many good things had been des- 
tined to come at once, soon afterwards another soldier 
entered with a knapsack, which he laid down on the 
bench. It held my other poor suit of clothes, together 
with a rough set of woollens, a few handkerchiefs, two 
pairs of stockings, and a wool cap for night wear. 

Gabord did not speak to me at all, but roughly hur- 
ried the soldier at his task of fire-lighting, and ordered 
the other to fetch a pair of stools and a jar of water. 
Meanwhile I stood near, watching, and stretched out my 
skinny hands to the grateful heat as soon as the fire 
was lighted. I had a boy’s delight in noting how the 
draught pumped the fire into violence, shaking the stove 
till it puffed and roared. I was so filled, that moment, 
with the domestic spirit that I thought a steaming 
kettle on the little stove would give me a tabby-like com- 
fort. 


A LITTLE BOAST.’ 


149 


“Why not a kettle on the hoh?” said I gaily to 
Gabord. 

“ Why not a cat before the fire, a bit of bacon on the 
coals, a pot of mulled wine at elbow, and wench’s chin to 
chuck, baby-bumbo ! ” said Gabord in a mocking voice, 
which made the soldiers laugh at my expense. “ And a 
spinet, too, for ducky dear, Scarrat ; a piece of cake and 
cherry wine, and a soul to go to heaven ! Tonnerre ! ’ 
he added, with an oath, “ these English prisoners want 
the world for a sou, and they’d owe that till judgment 
day.” 

I saw at once the meaning of his words, for he turned 
his back on me, and, going to the window, tried the stan- 
chions, seeming much concerned about them, and mutter- 
ing to himself. I drew from my pocket two gold pieces, 
and gave them to the soldier Scarrat ; and the other sol- 
dier coming in just then, I did the same with him ; and 
I could see that their respect for me mightily increased. 
Gabord, still muttering, turned to us again, and began to 
berate the soldiers for their laziness. As the two men 
turned to go, Scarrat, evidently feeling that something 
was due for the gold I had given, said to Gabord, “ Shall 
m’sieu’ have the kettle ? ” 

Gabord took a step forward as if to strike the soldier, 
but stopped short, blew out his cheeks, and laughed in a 
loud, mocking way. 

“ Ay, ay, fetch m’sieu’ the kettle, and fetch him flax 
to spin, and a pinch of snuff, and hot flannels for his 
stomach, and every night at sundown you shall feed him 
with pretty biscuits soaked in milk. Ah, go to the devil 
and fetch the kettle, fool!” he added roughly again, 
and quickly the place was empty save for him and my- 
self. 

“ Those two fellows are to sit outside your cage door, 
dickey-bird, and two are to march beneath your window 
11 


150 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


yonder, so you shall not lack care if you seek to go abroad. 
Those are the new orders.” 

“ And you, Gabord,” said I, “ are you not to be my 
jailer ? ” I said it sorrowfully, for I had a genuine feel- 
ing for him, and I could not keep that from my voice. 

When I had spoken so feelingly, he stood for a mo- 
ment, flushing and puffing, as if confused by the compli- 
ment in the tone, and then he answered, “ I’m to keep 
you safe till word comes from the King what’s to be done 
with you.” 

Then he suddenly became surly again, standing with 
legs apart and keys dangling; for Scarrat entered with 
the kettle and put it on the stove. “ You will bring 
blankets for m’sieu’,” he added, “and there’s an order 
on my table for tobacco, which you will send your com- 
rade for.” 

In a moment we were left alone. 

“ You’ll live like a stuffed pig here,” he said, “ though 
’twill be cold o’ nights.” 

After another pass or two of words he left me, and I 
hastened to make a better toilet than I had done for a 
year. My old rusty suit which I exchanged for the one I 
had worn seemed almost sumptuous, and the woollen wear 
comforted my weakened body. Within an hour my cell 
looked snug, and I sat cosily by the fire, feeding it lazily. 

It must have been about four o’clock when there was 
a turning of keys and a shooting of bolts, the door opened, 
and who should step inside but Gabord, followed by Alixe ! 
I saw Alixe’s lips frame my name thrice, though no word 
came forth, and my heart was bursting to cry out and clasp 
her to my breast. But still, with a sweet, serious look cast 
on me, she put out her hand and stayed me. 

Gabord, looking not at us at all, went straight to the 
window, and, standing on a stool, busied himself with the 
stanchions and began to whistle. I took Alixe’s hands 



Gabord 


busied liiinself with the stanchions, 



A LITTLE boast; 


151 


and held them, and spoke her name softly, and she smiled 
up at me with so perfect a grace that I thought there never 
was aught like it in the world. 

She was the first to break the good spell. I placed a 
seat for her, and sat down by her. She held out her fin- 
gers to the fire, and then, after a moment, she told me the 
story of last night’s affair. First she made me tell her 
briefiy of the events of the morning, of which she knew, 
but not fully. This done, she began. I will set down 
her story as a whole, and you must understand as you 
read that it was told as women tell a story, with all little 
graces and diversions, and those small details with which 
even momentous things are enveloped in their eyes. I 
loved her all the more because of these, and I saw, as 
Doltaire had said, how admirably poised was her intel- 
lect, how acute her wit, how delicate and astute a di- 
plomatist she was becoming ; and yet, through all, pre- 
serving a simplicity of character almost impossible of be- 
lief. Such qualities, in her directed to good ends, in lesser 
women have mostly made them infamous. Once that day 
Alixe said to me, breaking off as her story went on, “ Oh, 
Eobert, when I see what power I have to dissimulate — 
for it is that, call it by what name you will — when I 
see how I enjoy accomplishing against all difficulty, how 
I can blind even so skilled a diplomatist as Monsieur Dol- 
taire, I almost tremble. I see how, if God had not given 
me something here” — she placed her hand upon her 
heart — “ that saves me, I might be like Madame Cournal, 
and far worse, far worse than she. For I love power — 
I do love it ; I can see that ! ” 

She did not realize that it was her strict honesty with 
herself which was her true safeguard. 

Here is the story she told me : 

“ When I left you last night, I went at once to my 
home, and was glad to get in without being seen. At 


152 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


nine o’clock we were to be at the Chateau, and while my 
sister Georgette was helping me with my toilette — oh, how 
I wished she would go and leave me quite alone ! — my 
head was in a whirl, and now and then 1 could feel my 
heart draw and shake like a half-choked pump, and there 
was a strange pain behind my eyes. Georgette is of such 
a warm disposition, so kind always to me, whom she 
would yield to in everything, so simple in her affections, 
that I seemed standing there by her like an intrigante, as 
one who had got wisdom at the price of a good something 
lost. But do not think, Robert, that for one instant I 
was sorry I played a part, and have done so for a long year 
and more. I would do it again, and more, if it were for 
you. 

“ Georgette could not understand why it was I stopped 
all at once and caught her head to my breast, as she sat by 
me where I stood arranging my gown. I do not know quite 
why I did it, but perhaps it was from my yearning that 
never should she have a lover in such sorrow and danger as 
mine, and that never should she have to learn to mask her 
heart as I have done. Ah, sometimes I fear, Robert, that 
when all is over, and you are free, and you see what the 
world and all this playing at hide-and-seek have made me, 
you will feel that such as Georgette, who have never looked 
inside the hearts of wicked people, and read the tales 
therein for knowledge to defeat wickedness — that such as 
she were better fitted for your life and love. No, no, 
please do not take my hand — not till you have heard all I 
am going to tell.” 

She continued quietly; yet her eye flashed, and now 
and then something in her thoughts as to how she, a 
weak, powerless girl, had got her ends against astute evil 
men, sent a little laugh to her lips ; for she had by nature 
as merry a heart as serious. 

“ At nine o’clock we came to the Chdteau St. Louis 


A LITTLE BOAST.’ 


153 


from Ste. Anne Street, where our winter home is — yet 
how much do I prefer the Manor House ! There were 
but few guests to supper, and Monsieur Doltaire was not 
among them. I affected a genial surprise, and asked the 
Governor if one of the two vacant chairs at the table was 
for monsieur; and looking a little as though he would 
reprove me — for he does not like to think of me as inter- 
ested in monsieur — he said it was, but that monsieur was 
somewhere out of town, and there was no surety that he 
would come. The other chair was for the Chevalier de 
la Darante, one of the oldest and best of our nobility, who 
pretends great roughness and barbarism, but is a kind and 
honourable gentleman, though odd. He was one of your 
judges, Robert; and though he condemned you, he said 
that you had some reason on your side. I will show you 
how he stood for you last night. 

“ I need not tell you how the supper passed, while I 
was planning — planning to reach the Governor if mon- 
sieur did not come ; and if he did come, how to play my 
part so he should suspect nothing but a vain girl’s ca- 
price, and maybe heartlessness. Moment after moment 
went by, and he came not. I almost despaired. Pres- 
ently the Chevalier de la Darante entered, and he took 
the vacant chair beside me. I was glad of this. I had 
gone in upon the arm of a rusty gentleman of the Court, 
who is over here to get his health again, and does so by 
gaming and drinking at the Chateau Bigot. The Cheva- 
lier began at once to talk to me, and he spoke of you, say- 
ing that he had heard of your duel with my brother, and 
that formerly you had been much a guest at our house. 
I answered him with what carefulness I could, and brought 
round the question of your death, by hint and allusion 
getting him to speak of the mode of execution. 

“ Upon this point he spoke his mind strongly, saying 
that it was a case where the penalty should be the mus- 


154 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


ket, not the rope. It was no subject for the supper table, 
and the Governor felt this, and I feared he would show 
displeasure; but other gentlemen took up the matter, 
and he could not easily change the talk at the moment. 
The feeling was strong against you. My father stayed 
silent, but I could see he watched the effect upon the 
Governor. I knew that he himself had tried to have the 
mode of execution changed, but the Governor had been 
immovable. The Chevalier spoke most strongly, for he is 
afraid of no one, and he gave the other gentlemen raps 
upon the knuckles. 

“ ‘ I swear,’ he said at last, ‘ I am sorry now I gave 
in to his death at all, for it seems to me that there is 
much cruelty and hatred behind the case against him. 
He seemed to me a gentleman of force and fearlessness, 
and what he said had weight. Why was the gentleman 
not exchanged long ago ? He was here three years before 
he was tried on this charge. Ay, there’s the point ! 
Other prisoners were exchanged — why not he? If the 
gentleman is not given a decent death, after these years of 
captivity, I swear I will not leave Kamaraska again to set 
foot in Quebec.’ 

“ At that the Governor gravely said, ‘ These are mat- 
ters for our Council, dear Chevalier.’ To this the Cheva- 
lier replied, ‘ I meant no reflection on your Excellency, 
but you are good enough to let the opinions of gentlemen 
not so wise as you weigh with you in your efforts to be 
just ; and I have ever held that one wise autocrat was 
worth a score of juries.’ There was an instant’s pause, 
and then my father said quietly, ‘ If his Excellency had 
always councillors and colleagues like the Chevalier de la 
Darante, his path would be easier, and Canada happier 
and richer.’ This settled the matter, for the Governor, 
looking at them both for a moment, suddenly said, ‘ Gen- 
tlemen, you shall have your way, and I thank you for your 


“A LITTLE BOAST.’ 


155 


confidence. — If the ladies will pardon a sort of council of 
state here ! ’ he added. The Governor called a servant, 
and ordered pen, ink, and paper ; and there before us all 
he wrote an order to Gabord, your jailer, to be delivered 
before midnight. 

“ He had begun to read it aloud to us, when the cur- 
tains of the entrance-door parted, and Monsieur Doltaire 
stepped inside. The Governor did not hear him, and 
monsieur stood for a moment listening. When the read- 
ing was finished he gave a dry little laugh, and came down 
to the Governor, apologizing for his lateness, and bowing 
to the rest of us. He did not look at me at all, but once 
he glanced keenly at my father, and I felt sure that he 
had heard my father’s words to the Governor. 

“ ‘ Have the ladies been made councillors ? ’ he asked 
lightly, and took his seat, which was opposite to mine. 
‘ Have they all conspired to give a criminal one less epi- 
sode in his life for which to blush ? . . . May I not join 
the conspiracy?’ he added, glancing round, and lifting a 
glass of wine. Not even yet had he looked at me. Then 
he waved his glass the circuit of the table and said, ‘ I 
drink to the councillors and applaud the conspirators,’ 
and as he raised his glass to his lips his eyes came abruptly 
to mine and stayed, and he bowed profoundly and with an 
air of suggestion. He drank, still looking, and then 
turned again to the Governor. I felt my heart stand 
still. Did he suspect my love for you, Robert? Had 
he discovered something? Was Gabord a traitor to us? 
Had I been watched, detected ? I could have shrieked at 
the suspense. I was like one suddenly faced with a 
dreadful accusation, with which was a great fear. But I 
held myself still— oh, so still, so still !— and as in a dream 
I heard the Governor say pleasantly, ‘ I would I had such 
conspirators always by me. I am sure you would wish 
them to take more responsibility than you will now as- 


156 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


sume in Canada.’ Doltaire bowed and smiled, and the 
Governor went on : ‘I am sure you will approve of Cap- 
tain Moray being shot instead of hanged. But indeed it 
has been my good friend the Chevalier here who has 
given me the best council I have held in many a day.’ 

“ To this Monsieur Doltaire replied : ‘ A council un- 
known to statute, but approved of those who stand for 
etiquette with one’s foes at any cost. For myself, it is 
so unpleasant to think of the rope ’ ” (here Alixe hid her 
face in her hands for a moment) “ ‘ that I should eat no 
breakfast to-morrow if the gentleman from Virginia were 
‘to hang.’ It was impossible to tell from his tone what 
was in his mind, and I dared not think of his failure to 
interfere as he had promised me. As yet he had done 
nothing, I could see, and in eight or nine hours more you 
were to die. He did not look at me again for some time, 
but talked to my mother and my father and the Cheva- 
lier, commenting on affairs in France and the war be- 
tween our countries, but saying nothing of where he had 
been during the past week. He seemed paler and thinner 
than when I last saw him, and I felt that something had 
happened to him. You shall hear soon what it was. 

“ At last he turned from the Chevalier to me, and said, 
‘ When did you hear from your brother, mademoiselle ? ’ 
I told him ; and he added, ‘ I have had a letter since, and 
after supper, if you will permit me, I will tell you of it.’ 
Turning to my father and my mother, he assured them 
of Juste’s well-being, and afterwards engaged in talk with 
the Governor, to whom he seemed to defer. When we all 
rose to go to the salon^ he offered my mother his arm, 
and I went in upon the arm of the good Chevalier. A 
few moments afterwards he came to me, and remarked 
cheerfully, ‘In this farther corner, where the spinet 
sounds most, we can talk best ’ ; and we went near to the 
spinet, where Madame Lotbiniere was playing. ‘It is 


A LITTLE BOAST.’ 


157 


true,’ he began, ‘ that I have had a letter from your 
brother. He begs me to use influence for his advance- 
ment. You see, he writes to me instead of to the Gov- 
ernor. You can guess how I stand in France. Well, we 
shall see what I may do. . . . Have you not wondered 
concerning me this week ? ’ he asked. 1 said to him, ‘ I 
scarce expected you till after to-morrow, when you would 
plead some accident as cause for not fulfilling your pretty 
little boast.’ He looked at me sharply for a minute and 
then said : ‘ A pretty little boast, is it ? H’m ! you touch 
great things with light fingers.’ I nodded. ‘ Yes,’ said I, 
‘ when I have no great faith.’ ‘ You have marvellous cold- 
ness for a girl that promised warmth in her youth,’ he 
answered. ‘Even I, who am old in these matters, cun 
not think of this Moray’s death without a twinge, for it 
is not like an affair of battle ; but you seem to think of it 
in its relation to my “ little boast,” as you call it. Is it 
not so ? ’ 

“‘No, no,’ said I, with apparent indignation, ‘you 
must not make me out so cruel. I am not so hard-hearted 
as you think. My brother is well — I have no feeling 
against Captain Moray on his account ; and as for spying 
— well, it is only a painful epithet for what is done here 
and everywhere all the time.’ ‘ Hear me, dear me,’ he 
remarked lightly, ‘ what a mind you have for argument !— 
a born casuist; and yet, like all women, you would let 
your sympathy rule you in matters of state. But come,’ 
he added, ‘where do you think I have been?’ It was 
hard to answer him gaily, and yet it must be done, and so 
I said, ‘ You have probably put yourself in prison, that 
you should not keep your tiny boast.’ ‘ I have been in 
prison,’ he answered, ‘ and I was on the wrong side, with 
no key — even locked in a chest-room of the Intendance,’ 
he explained, ‘ but as yet I do not know by whom, nor am 
I sure why. After two days without food or drink I man- 


158 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


aged to get out through the barred window. I spent 
three days in my own room, ill, and here I am. You 
must not speak of this — you will not?’ he asked me. 
‘To no one,’ I answered gaily, ‘but my other self.’ 
‘ Where is your other self ? ’ he asked. ‘ In here,’ said I, 
touching my bosom. I did not mean to turn my head 
away when I said it, but indeed I felt I could not look 
him in the eyes at the moment, for I was thinking of you. 

“ He mistook me ; he thought I was coquetting with 
him, and he leaned forward to speak in my ear, so that 
I could feel his breath on my cheek. I turned faint, for 
I saw how terrible was this game I was playing ; but oh, 
Robert, Robert ” — her hands fluttered towards me, then 
drew back — “ it was for your sake, for your sake, that I 
let his hand rest on mine an instant, as he said : ‘ 1 shall 
go hunting there to find your other self. Shall I know 
the face if I see it ? ’ I drew my hand away, for it was 
torture to me, but I only said, a little scornfully, ‘ You 
do not stand by your words. You said ’ — here I laughed 
disdainfully — ‘ that you would meet the flrst test to prove 
your right to follow the second boast.’ 

“ He got to his feet, and said in a low, firm voice : 
‘Your memory is excellent, your aplomb perfect. You 
are young to know it all so well. But you bring your own 
punishment,’ he added, with a wicked smile, ‘and you 
shall pay hereafter. I am going to the Governor. Bigot 
has arrived, and is with Madame Cournal yonder. You 
shall have proof in half an hour.’ 

“ Then he left me. An idea occurred to me. If he 
succeeded in staying your execution, you would in all like- 
lihood be placed in the common jail. I would try to get 
an order from the Governor to visit the jail to distribute 
gifts to the prisoners, as my mother and I had done be- 
fore on the day before Christmas. So, while Monsieur 
Doltaire was passing with Bigot and the Chevalier de la 


A LITTLE boast; 


159 


Darante into another room, I made my request of the 
Governor ; and that very moment, at my wish, he had his 
secretary write the order, which he countersigned and 
handed me, with a gift of gold for the prisoners. As 
he left my mother and myself. Monsieur Doltaire came 
back with Bigot, and, approaching the Governor, they 
led him away, engaging at once in serious talk. One 
thing I noticed : as monsieur and Bigot came up, I could 
see monsieur eying the Intendant askance, as though he 
would read treachery; for I feel sure that it was Bigot 
who contrived to have monsieur shut up in the chest- 
room. I can not quite guess the reason, unless it be true 
what gossips say, that Bigot is jealous of the notice 
Madame Oournal has given Doltaire, who visits much at 
her house. 

“ Well, they asked me to sing, and so I did ; and can 
you guess what it was ? Even the voyageurs* song — 

‘ Brothers, we go to the Scarlet Hills, 

(Little gold sun, come out of the dawn 1) ’ 

I know not how I sang it, for my heart, my thoughts, were 
far away in a whirl of clouds and mist, as you may see a 
flock of wild ducks in the haze upon a river, flying they 
know not whither, save that they follow the sound of the 
stream. I was just ending the song when Monsieur Dol- 
taire leaned over me, and said in my ear, ‘ To-morrow I 
shall invite Captain Moray from the scaffold to my 
breakfast- table — or, better still, invite myself to his own.’ 
His hand caught mine, as I gave a little cry ; for when I 
felt sure of your reprieve, I could not, Kobert, I could not 
keep it back. He thought I was startled at his hand- 
pressure, and did not guess the real cause. 

“ ‘ I have met one challenge, and I shall meet the 
other,’ he said quickly* ‘ It is not so much a matter of 
power, either ; it is that engine opportunity. You and I 


160 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


should go far in this wicked world,’ he added. ‘ We think 
together, we see through ladders. I admire you, made- 
moiselle. Some men will say they love you; and they 
should, or they have no taste ; and the more they love you, 
the better pleased am I — if you are best pleased with me. 
But it is possible for men to love and not to admire. It 
is a foolish thing to say that reverence must go with love. 
I know men who have lost their heads and their souls for 
women whom they knew infamous. But when one ad- 
mires where one loves, then in the ebb and flow of passion 
the heart is safe, for admiration holds when the sense is 
cold.’ 

“You know well, Kobert, how clever he is; how, 
listening to him, you must admit his talent and his power. 
But oh, believe that, though I am full of wonder at his 
cleverness, I can not bear him very near me.” 

She paused. I looked most gravely at her, as well one 
might who saw so sweet a maid employing her heart thus, 
and the danger that faced her. She misread my look a 
little, maybe, for she said at once : 

“ I must be honest with you, and so I tell you all — all, 
else the part I play were not possible to me. To you I 
can speak plainly, pour out my soul. Do not fear for me. 
I see a battle coming between that man and me, but I 
shall flght it stoutly, worthily, so that in this, at least, I 
shall never have to blush for you that you loved me. Be 
patient, Robert, and never doubt me ; for that would 
make me close the doors of my heart, though I should never 
cease to aid you, never weary in labour for your well- 
being. If these things, and flghting all these wicked men, 
to make Monsieur Doltaire help me to save you, have 
schooled to action some worse parts of me, there is yet 
in me that which shall never be brought low, never be 
dragged to the level of Versailles or the Ohdteau Bigot 
— never ! ” 


A LITTLE boast; 


161 


She looked at me with such dignity and pride that my 
eyes filled with tears, and, not to be stayed, I reached out 
and took her hands, and would have clasped her to my 
breast, but she held back from me. 

“ You believe in me, Robert?” she said most earnestly. 
“You will never doubt me? You know that I am true 
and loyal.” 

“ I believe in God, and in you,” I answered reverently, 
and I took her in my arms and kissed her. I did not care 
at all whether or no Gabord saw ; but indeed he did not, 
as Alixe told me afterwards, for, womanlike, even in this 
sweet crisis she had an eye for such details. 

“ What more did he say ? ” I asked, my heart beating 
hard in the joy of that embrace. 

“No more, or little more, for my mother came that 
instant and brought me to talk with the Chevalier de la 
Darante, who wished to ask me for next summer to Ka- 
maraska or Isle aux Coudres, where he has manorhouses. 
Before I left Monsieur Doltaire, he said to me, ‘ I never 
made a promise but I wished to break it. This one shall 
balance all I’ve broken, for I’ll never unwish it.’ 

“ My mother heard this, and so I summoned all my 
will, and said gaily, ‘ Poor broken crockery ! You stand 
a tower among the ruins.’ This pleased him, and he an- 
swered, ‘ On the tower base is written. This crockery out- 
serves all others.’ My mother looked sharply at me, but 
said nothing, for she has come to think that I am heart- 
less and cold to men and to the world, selfish in many 
things.” 

At this moment Gabord turned round, saying, “ ’Tis 
time to be done. Madame comes.” 

“It is my mother,” said Alixe, standing up, and 
hastily placing her hands in mine. “I must be gone. 
Good-bye, good-bye.” 

There was no chance for further adieu, and I saw her 




TSE seats OE TfiE mighty. 


pass out with Gabord ; but she turned at the last, and said 
in English, for she spoke it fairly now, “ Believe and re- 
member.” 


XIV. 

ARGAND COURNAL. 

The most meagre intelligence came to me from the 
outer world. I no longer saw Gabord ; he had suddenly 
been withdrawn and a new jailer substituted, and the sen- 
tinels outside my door and beneath the window of my cell 
refused all information. For months I had no news what- 
ever of Alixe or of those affairs nearest my heart. I heard 
nothing of Doltaire, little of Bigot, and there was no sign 
of Voban. 

Sometimes I could see my new jailer studying me, as 
if my plans were a puzzle to his brain. At first he used 
regularly to try the bars of the window, and search the 
wall as though he thought my devices might be found 
there. 

Scarrat and Flavelle, the guards at my door, set too 
high a price on their favours, and they talked seldom, and 
then with brutal jests and ribaldry of matters in the town 
which were not vital to me. Yet once, or twice, from 
things they said, I came to know that all was not well be- 
tween Bigot and Doltaire on one hand, and Doltaire and 
the Governor on the other. Doltaire had set the Governor 
and the Intendant scheming against him because of his 
adherence to the cause of neither, and his power to render 
the plans of either of no avail when he chose, as in my 
case. Vaudreuil’s vanity was injured, and, besides, he 
counted Doltaire too strong a friend of Bigot. Bigot, I 
doubted not, found in Madame Cournal’s liking for Dol- 
taire all sorts of things of which he never would have 


ARGAND COURNAL. 


163 


dreamed ; for there is no such potent devilry in this world 
as the jealousy of such a sort of man over a woman whose 
vanity and cupidity are the springs of her affections. Dol- 
taire’s imprisonment in a room of the Intendance was not 
so mysterious as suggestive. I foresaw a strife, a compli- 
cation of intrigues, and internal enmities which would he 
(as they were) the ruin of New France. I saw, in imagina- 
tion, the English army at the gates of Quebec, and those 
who sat in the seats of the mighty, sworn to personal en- 
mities — Vaudreuil through vanity. Bigot through cupid- 
ity, Doltaire by the innate malice of his nature — sacrificing 
the country ; the scarlet body of British power moving 
down upon a dishonoured city, never to take its foot from 
that sword of France which fell there on the soil of the 
New World. 

But there was another factor in the situation on which 
I have not before dwelt. Over a year earlier, when war 
was being carried into Prussia by Austria and France, and 
against England, the ally of Prussia, the French Minister 
of War, D’Argenson, had, by the grace of La Pompadour, 
sent General the Marquis de Montcalm to Canada, to pro- 
tect the colony with a small army. From the first, Mont- 
calm, fiery, impetuous, and honourable, was at variance 
with Vaudreuil, who, though honest himself, had never 
dared to make open stand against Bigot. When Mont- 
calm came, practically taking the military command out 
of the hands of the Governor, Vaudreuil developed a singu- 
lar jealous spirit against the General. It began to express 
itself about the time I was thrown into the citadel dun- 
geon, and I knew from what Alixe had told me, and from 
the gossip of the soldiers that there was a more open show 
of disagreement now. 

The Governor, seeing how ill it was to be at variance 
with both Montcalm and Bigot, presently began to covet 
a reconciliation with the latter. To this Bigot was by no 


164 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


means averse, for his own position had danger. His fol- 
lowers and confederates, Cournal, Marin, Cadet, and Ri- 
gaud, were robbing the King with a daring and effrontery 
which must ultimately bring disaster. This he knew, but it 
was his plan to hold on for a time longer, and then to re- 
tire before the axe fell with an immense fortune. There- 
fore, about the time set for my execution, he began to close 
with the overtures of the Governor, and presently the two 
formed a confederacy against the Marquis de Montcalm. 
Into it they tried to draw Doltaire, and were surprised to 
find that he stood them off as to anything more than out- 
ward show of friendliness. 

Truth was, Doltaire, who had no sordid feeling in him, 
loathed alike the cupidity of Bigot and the incompetency 
of the Governor, and respected Montcalm for his honour 
and reproached him for his rashness. Prom first to last 
he was, without show of it, the best friend Montcalm had 
in the province ; and though he held aloof from bringing 
punishment to Bigot, he despised him and his friends, 
and was not slow to make that plain. D’Argenson made 
inquiry of Doltaire when Montcalm’s honest criticisms 
were sent to France in cipher, and Doltaire returned the 
reply that Bigot was the only man who could serve Can- 
ada efficiently in this crisis ; that he had abounding fer- 
tility of resource, a clear head, a strong will, and great ad- 
ministrative faculty. This was all he would say, save that 
when the war was over other matters might be conned. 
Meanwhile France must pay liberally for the Intendant’s 
services ! 

Through a friend in France, Bigot came to know that 
his affairs were moving to a crisis, and saw that it would 
be wise to retire ; but he loved the very air of crisis, and 
Madame Cournal, anxious to keep him in Canada, en- 
couraged him in his natural feeling to stand or fall with 
the colony. He never showed aught but a bold and con- 


ARGAND COURNAL. 


165 


fident face to the public, and was in all regards the most 
conspicuous figure in New France. When, two years be- 
fore, Montcalm took Oswego from the English, Bigot threw 
open his palace to the populace for two days’ feasting, and 
every night during the war he entertained lavishly, though 
the people went hungry, and their own corn, bought for 
the King, was sold hack to them at famine prices. 

As the Governor and the Intendanf grew together in 
friendship, Vaudreuil sinking past disapproval in present 
selfish necessity, they quietly combined against Doltaire 
as against Montcalm. Yet at this very time Doltaire was 
living in the Intendance, and, as he had told Alixe, not 
without some personal danger. He had before been offered 
chambers at the Chtoau St. Louis ; but these he would 
not take, for he could not bear to be within touch of the 
Governor’s vanity and timidity. He would of preference 
have stayed in the Intendance had he known that pitfalls 
and traps were at every footstep. Danger gave a piquancy 
to his existence. Perhaps he did not greatly value Ma- 
dame Cournal’s admiration of himself ; but when it drove 
Bigot to retaliation, his imagination got an impulse, and 
he entered upon a conflict which ran parallel with the 
war, and with that delicate antagonism which Alixe 
waged against him, long undiscovered by himself. 

At my wits’ ends for news, at last I begged my jailer 
to convey a message for me to the Governor, asking that 
the barber be let come to me. The next day an answer 
arrived in the person of Voban himself, accompanied by 
the jailer. For a time there was little speech between us, 
but as he tended me we talked. We could do so with 
safety? for Voban knew English ; and though he spoke it 
brokenly, he had freedom in it, and the jailer knew no 
word of it. At first the fellow blustered, but I waved 
him off. He was a man of better education than Gabord, 
but of inferior judgment and shrewdness. He made no 
12 


166 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


trial thereafter to interrupt our talk, but sat and drummed 
upon a stool with his keys, or loitered at the window, or 
now and again thrust his hand into my pockets, as if to 
see if weapons were concealed in them. 

“ Voban,” said I, “ what has happened since I saw you 
at the Intendance ? Tell me first of mademoiselle. You 
have nothing from her for me ? ” 

“ Nothing,” he answered. “ There is no time. A 
soldier come an hour ago with an order from the Gov- 
ernor, and I must go all at once. So I come as you see. 
But as for the ma’m’selle, she is well. Voila^ there is no 
one like her in New France. I do not know all, as you 
can guess, but they say she can do what she will at the 
Chdteau. It is a wonder to see her drive. A month ago 
a droll thing come to pass. She is driving on the ice with 
Ma’m’selle Lotbiniere and her brother Charles. M’sieu’ 
Charles, he has the reins. Soon, ver’ quick, the horses 
start with all their might. M’sieu’ saw and pull, but they 
go the faster. Like that for a mile or so ; then ma’m’selle 
remember there is a great crack in the ice a mile farther 
on, and beyond, the ice is weak and rotten, for there the 
curren’ is ver’ strongest. She sees that M’sieu’ Charles, 
he can do nothing, so she reach and take the reins. The 
horses go on ; it make no difi’rence at first. But she 
begin to talk to them so sof’, and to pull ver’ steady, and 
at last she get them shaping to the shore. She have the 
reins wound on her hands, and people on the shore, they 
watch. Little on little the horses pull up, and stop at 
last not a hunder’ feet from the great crack and the 
rotten ice. Then she turn them round and drive them 
home. 

You should hear the people cheer as she drive up 
Mountain Street. The bishop stand at the window of 
his palace and smile at her as she pass, and m’sieu’ ” — 
he looked at the jailer and paused — “ m’sieu’ the gen- 


ARGAND COURNAL. 


167 


tleman we do not love, he stand in the street with his 
cap off for two minutes as she come, and after she go 
by, and say a grand compliment to her so that her face 
go pale. He get froze ears for his pains — that was a 
cold day. Well, at night there was a grand dinner at 
the Intendance, and afterwards a ball in the splendid 
room which that man ” (he meant Bigot : I shall use 
names when quoting him further, that he may be bet- 
ter understood) “ built for the poor people of the land for 
to dance down their sorrows. So you can guess I would 
be there — happy. Ah yes, so happy ! I go and stand in 
the great gallery above the hall of dance, with crowd of 
people, and look down at the grand folk. 

“ One man come to me and say, ‘ Ah, Voban, is it you 
here? Who would think it!’ — like that. Another, he 
come and say, ‘Voban, he can not keep away from the In- 
tendance. Who does he come to look for ? But no, sAe 
is not here — no.’ And again, another, ‘ Why should not 
Voban be here ? One man has not enough bread to eat, 
and Bigot steals his corn. Another hungers for a wife to 
sit by his fire, and Bigot takes the maid, and Voban stuffs 
his mouth with humble pie like the rest. Chut ! shall 
not Bigot have his fill ? ’ And yet another, and, vot7dy 
she was a woman, she say, ‘ Look at the Intendant down 
there with madame. And M’sieu’ Cournal, he also is 
there. What does M’sieu’ Cournal care ? No, not at all. 
The rich man, what he care, if he has gold ? Virtue ! 
ha, ha 1 what is that in your wife if you have gold for it ? 
Nothing. See his hand at the Intendant’s arm. See how 
M’sieu’ Doltaire look at them, and then up here at, us. 
What is it in his mind, you think ? Eh ? You think he 
say to himself, A wife all to himself is the poor man’s one 
luxury ? Eh ? Ah, M’sieu’ Doltaire, you are right, you 
are right. You catch up my child from its basket in the 
market-place one day, and you shake it ver’ soft, an you 


168 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


say, ‘ Madame, I will stake the last year of my life that I 
can put my finger on the father of this child.’ And when 
I laugh in his face, he say again, ‘And if he thought he 
wasn’t its father, he would cut out the liver of the other 
—eh?’ And I laugh, and say, ‘My Jacques would fol- 
low him to hell to do it.’ Then he say, Voban, he say to 
me, ‘ That is the difference between you and us. W e only 
kill men who meddle with our mistresses ! ’ Ah, that 
M’sieu’ Doltaire, he put a louis in the hand of my babe, 
and he not even kiss me on the cheek. Pshaw ! Jacques 
would sell him fifty kisses for fifty louis. But sell me, 
or a child of me? Well, Voban, you can. guess ! Pah, 
barber, if you do not care what he did to the poor Ma- 
thilde, there are other maids in St. Eoch.’ ” 

Voban paused a moment, then added quietly, “ How do 
you think I bear it all ? With a smile ? No, I hear with 
my ears open and my heart close tight. Do they think 
they can teach me ? Do they guess I sit down and hear 
all without a cry from my throat or a will in my body ? 
Ah, m’sieu’ le Capitaine, it is you who know. You saw 
what I would have go to do with M’sieu’ Doltaire before 
the day of the Great Birth. You saw if I am a coward — 
if I iiot take the sword when it was at my throat without 
a whine. No, m’sieu’, I can w^ait. There is a time for 
everything. At first I am all in a muddle, I not know 
what to do ; but by-and-bye it all come to me, and you 
shall see one day what I wait for. Yes, you shall see. I 
look down on that people dancing there, quiet and still, 
and I hear some laugh at me, and now and then some one 
say a good word to me that make me shut my hands tight, 
so the tears not come to my eyes. But I felt alone — so 
much alone. The world does not want a sad man. In 
my shop I try to laugh as of old, and I am not sour or 
heavy, but I can see men do not say droll things to me as 
once back time. No, I am not as I was. What am I to 


ARGAND COURNAL. 


169 


do ? There is but one way. What is great to one man is 
not to another. What kills the one does not kill the 
other. Take away from some people one thing, and they 
will not care ; from others that same, and there is nothing 
to live for, except just to live, and because a man does not 
like death.” 

He paused. “ You are right, Voban,” said I. “Goon.” 

He was silent again for a time, and then he moved his 
hand in a helpless sort of way across his forehead. It 
had become deeply lined and wrinkled all in a couple of 
years. His temples were sunken, his cheeks hollow, and 
his face was full of those shadows which lend a sort of 
tragedy to even the humblest and least distinguished 
countenance. His eyes had a restlessness, anon an in- 
tense steadiness almost uncanny, and his thin, long fingers • 
had a stealthiness of motion, a soft swiftness, which struck 
me strangely. I never saw a man so changed. He was 
like a vessel wrested from its moorings ; like some craft, 
filled with explosives, set loose along a shore lined with 
fishing-smacks, which might come foul of one, and blow 
the company of men and boats into the air. As he stood 
there, his face half turned to me for a moment, this came 
to my mind, and I said to him, “Voban, you look like 
some wicked gun which would blow us all to pieces.” 

He wheeled, and came to me so swiftly that I shrank 
back in my chair with alarm, his action was so sudden, 
and, peering into my face, he said, glancing, as I thought, 
anxiously at the jailer, “ Blow— blow— how blow us all to 
pieces, m’sieu’?” He eyed me with suspicion, and I 
could see that he felt like some hurt animal among its 
captors, ready to fight, yet not knowing from what point 
danger would come. Something pregnant in what I said 
had struck home, yet I could not guess then what it was, 
though afterwards it came to me with great force and 
vividness. 


170 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


“I meant nothing, Voban,” answered I, “save that 
you look dangerous.” 

I half put out my hand to touch his arm in a friendly 
way, but I saw that the jailer was watching, and I did not. 
Voban felt what I was about to do, and his face instantly 
softened, and his blood-shot eyes gave me a look of grati- 
tude. Then he said : 

“ I will tell you what happen next. I know the palace 
very well, and when I see the Intendant and M’sieu’ Dol- 
taire and others leave the ballroom I knew that they go 
to the chamber which they call ‘la Chambre de la Joie,’ 
to play at cards. So I steal away out of the crowd into a 
passage which, as it seem, go nowhere, and come quick, 
all at once, to a bare wall. But I know the way. In one 
corner of the passage I press a spring, and a little panel 
open. I crawl through and close it behin’. Then I feel 
my way along the dark corner till. I come to another panel. 
This I open, and I see light. You ask how I can do this? 
Well, I tell you. There is the valet of Bigot, he is my 
friend. You not guess who it is? No? It is a man 
whose crime in France I know. He was afraid when he 
saw me here, but I say to him, ‘No, I will not speak — 
never’; and he is all my friend just when I most need. 
Eh, voila^ I see light, as I said, and I push aside heavy cur- 
tains ver’ little, and there is the Chamber of the Joy below. 
There they all are, the Intendant and the rest, sitting 
down to the tables. There was Capitaine Lancy, M’sieu’ 
Cadet, M’sieu’ Cournal, M’sieu’ le Chevalier de Levis, and 
M’sieu’ le Cen^rale, le Marquis de Montcalm. I am as- 
tonish to see him there, the great General, in his grand 
coat of blue and gold and red, and laces tres beau at his 
throat, with a fine jewel. Ah, he is not ver’ high on his 
feet, but he has an eye all fire, and a laugh come quick to 
his lips, and he speak ver’ galant^ but he never let them. 
Messieurs Cadet, Marin, Lancy, and the rest, be thick 


ARGAND COURNAL. 171 

friends with him. They do not clap their hands on his 
shoulder comme le ton camarade — non! 

“ Well, they sit down to play, and soon there is much 
noise and laughing, and then sometimes a silence, and 
then again the noise, and you can see one snuff a candle 
with the points of two rapiers, or hear a sword jangle at a 
chair, or listen to some one sing ver’ soft a song as he hold 
a good hand of cards, or the ring of louis on the table, or 
the sound of glass as it break on the floor. And once a 
young gentleman — alas ! he is so young — he got up from 
his chair, and cry out, ‘ All is lost ! I go to die ! ’ He 
raise a pistol to his head ; but M’sieu’ Doltaire catch his 
hand, and say quite soft and gentle, ‘ ^^o, no, mon enfant^ 
enough of making fun of us. Here is the hunder’ louis 
I borrow of you yesterday. Take your revenge.’ The lad 
sit down slow, looking ver’ strange at M’sieu’ Doltaire. 
And it is true : he take his revenge out of M’sieu’ Cadet, 
for he win — I saw it — three bunder’ louis. Then M’sieu’ 
Doltaire lean over to him and say, ‘ M’sieu’, you will carry 
for me a message to the citadel for M’sieu’ Ramesay, the 
commandant.’ Ah, it was a sight to see M’sieu’ Cadet’s 
face, going this way and that. But it was no use : the 
young gentleman pocket his louis, and go away with a 
letter from M’sieu’ Doltaire. But M’sieu’ Doltaire, he 
laugh in the face of M’sieu’ Cadet, and say ver’ pleasant, 
‘ That is a servant of the King, m’sieu’, who live by his 
sword alone. Why should civilians be so greedy ? Come, 
play, m’sieu’ Cadet. If M’sieu’ the General will play with 
me, we two will see what we can do with you and his Ex- 
cellency the Intendant.’ 

“ They sit just beneath me, and I hear all what is 
said, I see all the looks of them, every card that is played. 
M’sieu’ the General have not play yet, but watch M’sieu’ 
Doltaire and the Intendant at the cards. With a smile 
he now sit down. Then M’sieu’ Doltaire, he say, ‘ M’sieu’ 


172 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


Cadet, let us have no mistake — let us be commercial.’ 
He take out his watch. ‘ I have two hours to spare ; are 
you dispose to play for that time only? To the moment 
we will rise, and there shall be no question of satisfaction, 
no discontent anywhere — eh, shall it be so, if m’sieu’ the 
General can spare the time also ? ’ It is agree that the 
General play for one hour and go, and that M’sieu’ Dol- 
taire and the Intendant play for the rest of the time. 

“ They begin, and I hide there and watch. The time 
go ver’ fast, and my breath catch in my throat to see how 
great the stakes they play for. I hear M’sieu’ Doltaire 
say at last, with a smile, taking out his watch, ‘ M’sieu’ 
the General, your time is up, and you take with you twenty 
thousan’ francs.’ 

“ The General, he smile and wave his hand, as if sorry 
to take so much from M’sieu’ Cadet and the Intendant. 
M’sieu Cadet sit dark, and speak nothing at first, but at 
last he get up and turn on his heel and walk away, leav- 
ing what he lose on the table. M’sieu’ the General bow 
also, and go from the room. Then M’sieu’ Doltaire and 
the Intendant play. One by one the other players stop, 
and come and watch these. Something get into the two 
gentlemen, for both are pale, and the face of the Intend- 
ant all of spots, and his little round eyes like specks of 
red fire; but M’sieu’ Doltaire’s face, it is still, and his 
brows bend over, and now and then he make a little laugh- 
ing out of his lips. All at once I hear him say, ‘ Double 
the stakes, your Excellency ! ’ The Intendant look up 
sharp and say, ‘ What ! Two hunder’ thousan’ francs ! ’ 
— as if M’sieu’ Doltaire could not pay such a sum like 
that. M’sieu’ Doltaire smile ver’ wicked, and answer, 
‘ Make it three hunder’ thousan’ francs, your Excellency.’ 
It is so still in the Chamber of the Joy that all you hear 
for a minute was the fat Monsieur Varin breathe like a hog, 
and the rattle of a spur as some one slide a foot on the floor. 


ARGAND COURNAL. 


173 


“ The Intendant look blank ; then he nod his head for 
answer, and each write on a piece of paper. As they be- 
gin, M’sieu’ Doltaire take out his watch and lay it on the 
table, and the Intendant do the same, and they both look 
at the time. The watch of the Intendant is all jewels. 

‘ Will you not add the watches to the stake ? ’ say 
M’sieu’ Doltaire. The Intendant look, and shrug a shoul- 
der, and shake his head for no, and M’sieu’ Doltaire smile 
in a sly way, so that the Intendant’s teeth show at his lips 
and his eyes almost close, he is so angry. 

“ Just this minute I hear a low noise behind me, and 
then some one give a little cry. I turn quick and see 
Madame Cournal. She stretch her hand, and touch my 
lips, and motion me not to stir. I look down again, and 
I see that M’sieu’ Doltaire look up to the place where I 
am, for he hear that sound, I think — I not know sure. 
But he say once more, ‘ The watch, the watch, your Ex- 
cellency ! I have a fancy for yours ! ’ I feel madame 
breathe hard beside me, but I not like to look at her. I 
am not afraid of men, but a woman that way — ah, it make 
me shiver ! She will betray me, I think. All at once I 
feel her hand at my belt, then at my pocket, to see if I 
have a weapon ; for the thought come to her that I am 
there to kill Bigot. But I raise my hands and say ‘ No,’ 
ver’ quiet, and she nod her head all right. 

“ The Intendant wave his hand at M’sieu’ Doltaire to 
say he would not stake the watch, for I know it is one 
madame give him ; and then they begin to jjlay. No one 
stir. The cards go o\xt flip ^ flip ^ on the table, and with a 
little soft scrape in the hands, and I hear Bigot’s hound 
munch a bone. All at once M’sieu’ Doltaire throw down 
his cards, and say, ‘ Mine, Bigot ! Three hunder’ thousan’ 
francs, and the time is up ! ’ The other get from his 
chair, and say, ‘ How would you have pay if you had lost, 
Doltaire ? ’ And m’sieu’ answer, ‘ From the coffers of the 


174 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


King, like you, Bigot.’ His tone is odd. I feel madame’s 
breath go hard. Bigot turn round and say to the others, 
‘ Will you take your way to the great hall, messieurs, and 
M’sieu’ Doltaire and I will follow. We have some private 
conf’rence.’ They all turn away, all but M’sieu’ Cournal, 
and leave the room, whispering. ‘ I will join you soon, 
Cournal,’ say his Excellency. M’sieu’ Cournal not go, for 
he have been drinking, and something stubborn get into 
him. But the Intendant order him rough, and he go. I 
can hear madame gnash her teeth sof’ beside me. 

^ “ When the door close, the Intendant turn to M’sieu’ 
Doltaire and say, ‘ What is the end for which you play ? ’ 
M’sieu’ Doltaire make a little motion of his hand, and 
answer, ‘For three hunder’ thousan’ francs.’ ‘And to 
pay, m’sieu’, how to pay if you had lost ? ’ M’sieu’ Dol- 
taire lay his hand on his sword sof. ‘ From the King’s 
coffers, as I say; he owes me more than he has paid. 
But not like you. Bigot. I have earned, this way and 
that, all that I might ever get from the King’s coffers — 
even this three hunder’ thousan’ francs, ten times told. 
But you. Bigot — tush ! why should we make bubbles of 
words ? ’ The Intendant get white in the face, but there 
are spots on it like on a late apple of an old tree. ‘ You 
go too far, Doltaire,’ he say. ‘ You have hint before my 
officers and my friends that I make free with the King’s 
coffers.’ M’sieu’ answer, ‘ You should see no such hints, 
if your palms were not musty.’ ‘ How^ know you,’ ask 
the Intendant, ‘ that my hands are musty from the King’s 
coffers ? ’ M’sieu’ arrange his laces, and say light, ‘ As 
easy from the must as I tell how time passes in your nights 
by the ticking of this trinket here.’ He raise his sword 
and touch the Intendant’s watch on the table. 

“ I never hear such silence as there is for a minute, 
and then the Intendant say, ‘ You have gone one step too 
far. The must on my hands, seen through your eyes, is 


ARGAND COURNAL. 


175 


no matter, but when you must the name of a lady there is 
but one end. You understand m’sieu’, there is but one 
end.’ M’sieu’ laugh. ‘ The sword, you mean ? Eh ? 
No, no, I will not fight with you. I am not here to rid 
the King of so excellent an officer, however large fee he 
force for his services.’ ‘ And I tell you,’ say the Intend- 
ant, ‘ that I will not have you cast a slight upon a lady.’ 
Madame beside me start up, and whisper to me, ‘ If you 
betray me, you shall die. If you be still, I too will say 
nothing.’ But then a thing happen. Another voice 
sound from below, and there, coming from behind a great 
screen of oak wood, is M’sieu’ Cournal, his face all red 
with wine, his hand on his sword. ‘ Bah ! ’ he say, com- 
ing forward — ‘ bah ! I will speak for madame. I will 
speak. I have been silent long enough.’ He come be- 
tween the two, and, raising his sword, he strike the time- 
piece and smash it. ‘ Ha ! ha ! ’ he say, wild with drink, 
‘ I have you both here alone.’ He snap his finger under 
the Intendant’s nose. ‘ It is time I protect my wife’s 
name from you, and, by God, I will do it ! ’ At that 
M’sieu’ Doltaire laugh, and Cournal turn to him and say, 
‘ Batard ! ’ The Intendant have out his sword, and he 
roar in a hoarse voice, ‘ Dog, you shall die ! ’ But M’sieu’ 
Doltaire strike up his sword, and face the drunken man. 
‘ No, leave that to me. The King’s cause goes shipwreck ; 
we can’t change helmsman now. Think — scandal and 
your disgrace ! ’ ^ Then he make a pass at M’sieu’ Cour- 
nal, who parry quick. Another, and he prick his shoul- 
der. Another, and then madame beside me, as I spring 
back, throw aside the curtains, and cry out, ‘No, m’sieu’! 
no ! For shame ! ’ 

“ I kneel in a corner behind the curtains, and wait and 
listen. There is not a sound for a moment ; then I hear 
a laugh from M’sieu’ Cournal, such a laugh as make me 
sick — loud, and full of what you call not care and the 


176 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


devil. Madame speak down at them. ‘ Ah,’ she say, ‘ it 
is so fine a sport to drag a woman’s name in the mire ! ’ 
Her voice is full of spirit, and she look beautiful — beauti- 
ful. I never guess how a woman like that look ; so full 
of pride, and to speak like you could think knives sing as 
they strike steel — sharp and cold. ‘ I came to see how 
gentlemen look at play, and they end in brawling over a 
lady ! ’ 

“ M’sieu’ Doltaire speak to her, and they all put up 
their swords, and M’sieu’ Oournal sit down at a table, and 
he stare and stare up at the balcony, and make a motion 
now and then with his hand. M’sieu’ Doltaire say to her, 
‘ Madame, you must excuse our entertainment ; we did 
not know we had an audience so distinguished.’ She re- 
ply, ‘ As scene-shifter and prompter, M’sieu’ Doltaire, you 
have a gift. Your Excellency,’ she say to the Intendant, 
‘ I will wait for you at the top of the great staircase, if 
you will be so good as to take me to the ballroom.’ The 
Intendant and M’sieu’ Doltaire bow, and turn to the door, 
and M’sieu’ Oournal scowl, and make as if to follow ; but 
madame speak down at him, ‘ M’sieu’ — Argand ’ — like 
that ! and he turn back, and sit down. I think she for- 
get me, I keep so still. The others bow and scrape, and 
leave the room, and the two are alone — alone, for what 
am I ? What if a dog hear great people speak ? No, it 
is no matter ! 

“ There is all still for a little while, and I watch her 
face as she lean over the rail and look down at him ; it is 
like stone that aches, and her eyes stare and stare at 
him. He look up at her and scowl ; then he laugh, 
with a toss of the finger, and sit down. All at once he 
put his hand on his sword, and gnash his teeth. 

“ Then she speak down to him, her voice ver’ quiet. 
‘ Argand,’ she say, ‘ you are more a man drunk than sober. 
Argand,’ she go on, ‘ years ago, they said you were a brave 


ARGAND COURNAL. 


m 


man ; you fight well, you do good work for the King, 
your name goes with a sweet sound to Versailles. You 
had only your sword and my poor fortune and me then — 
that is all ; but you were a man. You had ambition, so 
had I. What can a woman do? You had your sword, 
your country, the King’s service. I had beauty ; I wanted 
power — ah yes, power, that was the thing! But I was 
young and a fool ; you were older. You talked fine 
things then, but you had a base heart, so much baser than 
mine. ... I might have been a good woman. I was a 
fool, and weak, and vain, but you were base — so base — 
coward and betrayer, you ! ’ 

“At that m’sieu’ start up and snatch at his sword, 
and speak out between his teeth, ‘ By God, I will kill 
you to-night!’ She smile cold and hard, and say, ‘No, 
no, you will not ; it is too late for killing ; that should 
have been done before. You sold your right to kill long 
ago, Argand Cournal. You have been close friends with 
the man who gave me power, and you gold.’ Then she 
get fierce. ‘ Who gave you gold before he gave me power, 
traitor?’ Like that she speak. ‘Do you never think 
of what you have lost ? ’ Then she break out in a laugh. 

‘ Pah ! Listen : if there must be killing, why not be the 
great Roman — drunk ! ’ 

“ Then she laugh so hard a laugh, and turn away, and 
go quick by me and not see me. She step into the dark, 
and he sit down in a chair, and look straight in front of 
him. I do not stir, and after a minute she come back 
sof’, and peep down, her face all differen’. ‘ Argand ! 
Argand ! ’ she say ver’ tender and low, ‘ if — if — if ’ — like 
that. But just then he see the broken watch on the 
fioor, and he stoop, with a laugh, and pick up the pieces ; 
then he get a candle and look on the floor everywhere for 
the jewels, and he pick them up, and put them away one 
by one in his purse like a miser. He keep on looking, 


178 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


and once the fire of the candle burn his beard, and he 
swear, and she stare and stare at him. He sit down at the 
table, and look at the jewels and laugh to himself. Then 
she draw herself up, and shake, and put her hands to her 
eyes, and, ‘ C^est jini I c’est fini ! ’ she whisper, and that 
is all. 

“ When she is gone, after a little time he change — ah, 
he change much. He go to a table and pour out a great 
bowl of wine, and then another, and he drink them both, 
and he begin to walk up and down the fioor. He sway 
now and then, but he keep on for a long time. Once a 
servant come, but he wave him away, and he scowl and 
talk to himself, and shut the doors and lock them. Then 
he walk on and on. At last he sit down, and he face me. 
In front of him are candles, and he stare between them, 
and stare and stare. I sit and watch, and I feel a pity. 
I hear him say, ‘ Antoinette ! Antoinette ! My dear An- 
toinette! We are lost forever, my Antoinette!’ Then 
he take the purse from his pocket, and throw it up to the 
balcony where I am. ‘ Pretty sins,’ he say, ‘ follow the 
sinner ! ’ It lie there, and it have sprung open, and I can 
see the jewels shine, but I not touch it — no. Well, he sit 
there long — long, and his face get gray and his cheeks all 
hollow. 

“ I hear the clock strike one ! two ! three ! four ! 
Once some one come and try the door, but go away again, 
and he never stir ; he is like a dead man. At last I fall 
asleep. When I wake up, he still sit there, but his head 
lie in his arms. I look round. Ah, it is not a fine sight 
— no. The candles burn so low, and there is a smell of 
wick, and the grease runs here and there down the great 
candlesticks. Upon the floor, this place and that, is a 
card, and pieces of paper, and a scarf, and a broken 
glass, and something that shine by a small table. This is 
a picture in a little gold frame. On all the tables stand 


ARGAND COURNAL. 


179 


glasses, some full and some empt}^, of wine. And just as 
the dawn come in through the tall windows, a cat crawl 
out from somewhere, all ver’ thin and shy, and walk 
across the floor ; it makes the room look so much alone. 
At last it come and move against m’sieu’s legs, and he 
lift his head and look down at it, and nod, and say 
something which I not hear. After that he get up, and 
pull himself together with a shake, and walk down the 
room. Then he see the little gold picture on the floor 
which some drunk young officer drop, and he pick it up 
and look at it, and walk again. ‘ Poor fool ! ’ he say, and 
look at the picture again. ‘ Poor fool ! Will he curse her 
some day— a child with a face like that? Ah ! ’ And he 
throw the picture down. Then he walk away to the 
doors, unlock them, and go out. Soon I steal away 
through the panels, and out of the palace ver’ quiet, and 
go home. But I can see that room in my mind.” 

Again the jailer hurried Vohan. There was no excuse 
for him to remain longer ; so I gave him a message to 
Alixe, and slipped into his hand a transcript from my 
journal. Then he left me, and I sat and thought upon 
the strange events of the evening which he had described 
to me. That he was bent on mischief I felt sure, hut how 
it would come, what were his plans, I could not guess. 
Then suddenly there flashed into my mind my words to 
him, “ blow us all to pieces,” and his consternation and 
strange eagerness. It came to me suddenly : he meant 
to blow up the Intendance. When? And how? It 

seemed absurd to think of it. Yet— yet The grim 

humour of the thing possessed me, and I sat back and 
laughed heartily. 

In the midst of my mirth the cell door opened and let 
in Doltaire. 


180 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


XV. 

IN THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE. 

I STARTED from my seat ; we bowed, and, stretching 
out a hand to the fire, Doltaire said, “ Ah, my captain, 
we meet too seldom. Let me see : five months— ah yes, 
nearly five months. Believe me, I have not breakfasted 
so heartily since. You are looking older — older. Solitude 
to the active mind is not to be endured alone — no.” 

“ Monsieur Doltaire is the surgeon to my solitude, 
said I. 

“ H’m ! ” he answered, “ a jail surgeon merely. And 
that brings me to a point, monsieur. I have had letters 
from France. The Grande Marquise — I may as well be 
frank with you — womanlike, yearns violently for those 
silly letters which you hold. She would sell our France 
for them. There is a chance for you who 'would serve 
your country so. Serve it, and yourself — and me. We 
have no news yet as to your doom, but be sure it is cer- 
tain. La Pompadour knows all, and if you are stubborn, 
twenty deaths were too few. I can save you little longer, 
even were it my will so to do. For myself, the great lady 
girds at me for being so poor an agent. You, monsieur ” 
— he smiled whimsically — “will agree that I have been 
persistent — and intelligent.” 

“ So much so,” rejoined I, “ as to be intrusive.” 

He smiled again. “ If La Pompadour could hear you, 
she would understand why I prefer the live amusing lion 
to the dead dog. When you are gone, I shall be incon- 
solable. I am a born inquisitor.” 

“You were born for better things than this,” I an- 
" swered. 

He took a seat and mused for a moment. “ For larger 
things, you mean,” was his reply. “ Perhaps — perhaps. 


IN THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE. 


181 


I have one gift of the strong man — I am inesEorable when 
I make for my end. As a general, I would pour men into 
the maw of death as corn into the hopper, if that would 
build a bridge to my end. You call to mind how those 
Spaniards conquered the Mexique city which was all canals 
like Venice? They filled the waterways with shattered 
houses and the bodies of their enemies, as they fought 
their way to Montezuma’s palace. So I would know not 
pity if I had a great cause. In anything vital I would 
have success at all cost, and to get, destroy as I went — if 
I were a great man.” 

I thought with horror of his pursuit of my dear Alixe. 
“ I am your hunter,” had been his words to her, and I 
knew not what had happened in all these months. 

“ If you were a great man, you should have the best 
prerogative of greatness,” I remarked quietly. 

“And what is that? Some excellent moral, I doubt 
not,” was the rejoinder. 

“ Mercy,” I replied. 

“ Tush ! ” he retorted, “ mercy is for the fireside, not 
for the throne. In great causes, what is a screw of tyranny 
here, a bolt of oppression there, or a few thousand lives ! ” 
He. suddenly got to his feet, and, looking into the distance, 
made a swift motion of his hand, his eyes half closed, his 
brows brooding and firm. “ I should look beyond the 
moment, the year, or the generation. Why fret because 
the hour of death comes sooner than we looked for ? In 
the movement of the ponderous car some honest folk 
must be crushed by the wicked wheels. No, no, in large 
affairs there must be no thought of the detail of misery, 
else what should be done in the world ! He who is the 
strongest shall survive, and he alone. It is all conflict — 
all. For when conflict ceases, and those who could and 
should be great spend their time chasing butterflies among 
the fountains, there comes miasma and their doom. Mercy ? 

13 


182 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


Mercy ? No, no : for none but the poor and sick and over- 
ridden, in time of peace ; in time of war, mercy for none, 
pity nowhere, till the joybells ring the great man home.’^ 

“ But mercy to women always,” said I, “ in war or 
peace.” 

He withdrew his eyes as if from a distant prospect, 
and they dropped to the stove, where I had corn parch- 
ing. He nodded, as if amused, but did not answer at once, 
and taking from my hand the feather with which I stirred 
the corn, softly whisked some off for himself, and smiled 
at the remaining kernels as they danced upon the hot iron. 
After a little while he said, “Women? Women should 
have all that men can give them. Beautiful things should 
adorn them ; no man should set his hand in cruelty on 
a woman — after she is his. Before — before? Woman is 
wilful, and sometimes we wring her heart that we may 
afterwards comfort it.” 

“ Your views have somewhat changed,” I answered. 
“ I mind when you talked less sweetly.” 

He shrugged a shoulder. “ That man is lost who keeps 
one mind concerning woman. I will trust the chastity of 
no woman, yet I will trust her virtue — if I have her heart. 
They are a foolish tribe, and all are vulnerable in their 
vanity. They are of consequence to man, but of no con- 
sequence in state matters. When they meddle there we 
have La Pompadour and war with England, and Captain 
Moray in the Bastile of New France.” 

“ You come from a court, monsieur, which believes in 
nothing, not even in itself.” 

“ I come from a court,” he rejoined, “ which has made 
a gospel of artifice, of frivolity a creed ; buying the toys 
for folly with the savings of the poor. His most Christian 
Majesty has set the fashion of continual silliness and uni- 
versal love. He begets children in the peasant’s oven and 
in the chamber of Charlemagne alike. And we are all 


IN THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE. 


183 


good subjects of the King. We are brilliant, exquisite, 
brave, and naughty ; and for us there is no to-morrow.” 

“ Nor for France,” I suggested. 

He laughed, as he rolled a kernel of parched corn on 
his tongue. “Tut, tut! that is another thing. We are 
the fashion of an hour, but France is a fact as stubborn 
as the natures of you English ; for beyond stubbornness 
and your Shakespeare you have little. Down among the 
moles, in the peasants’ huts, the spirit of France never 
changes — it is always the same ; it is for all time. You 
English, nor all others, you can not blow out that candle 
which is the spirit of France. I remember the Abb6 
Bobon preaching once upon the words, ‘ The spirit of man 
is the candle of the Lord ’ ; well, the spirit of France is 
the candle of Europe, and you English will be its screen 
against the blowing out, though in spasms of stupidity 
you flaunt the extinguisher. You — you have no imagina- 
tion, no passion, no temperament, no poetry. Yet I am 
wrong. The one thing you have ” 

He broke off, nodding his head in amusement. “ Yes, 
you have, but it is a secret. You English are the true 
lovers, we French the true poets ; and I will tell you why. 
You are a race of comrades, the French, of gentlemen ; you 
cleave to a thing, we to an idea ; you love a woman best when 
she is near, we when she is away ; you make a romance of 
marriage, we of intrigue ; you feed upon yourselves, we 
upon the world ; you have fever in your blood, we in our 
brains ; you believe the world was made in seven days, we 
have no God ; you would fight for the seven days, we would 
fight for the danseuse on a bonbon box. The world will 
say ‘ fie ! ’ at us and love us ; it will respect you and hate 
you. That is the law and the gospel,” he added, smiling. 

“ Perfect respect caste th out love,” said I ironically. 

He waved his fingers in approval. “ By the Lord, but 
you are pungent now and then ! ” he answered ; “ cabined 


184 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


here you are less material. By the time you are chastened 
unto heaven you will be too companionable to lose.” 

“When is that hour of completed chastening?” I 
asked. 

“ Never,” he said, “ if you will oblige me with those 
letters.” 

“For a man of genius you discern but slowly,” re- 
torted I. 

“Discern your amazing stubbornness?” he asked. 
“Why should you play at martyr, when your talent is 
commercial? You have no gifts for martyrdom but 
wooden tenacity. Pshaw ! the leech has that. You mis- 
take your calling.” 

“ And you yours,” I answered. “ This is a poor game 
you play, and losing it you lose all. La Pompadour will 
pay according to the goods you bring.” 

He answered with an amusing candor : “ Why, yes, 
you are partly in the right. But when La Pompadour 
and I come to our final reckoning, when it is a question 
who can topple ruins round the King quickest, his mis- 
tress or his ‘ cousin,’ there will be tales to tell.” 

He got up, and walked to and fro in the cell, musing, 
and his face grew darker and darker. “ Your Monmouth 
was a fool,” he said. “ He struck from the boundaries ; 
the blow should fall in the very chambers of the King.” 
He put a finger musingly upon his lip. “ I see — I see 
how it could be done. Full of danger, but brilliant, bril- 
liant and bold! Yes, yes . . . yes!” Then all at once 
he seemed to come out of a dream, and laughed ironically. 
“ There it is,” he said ; “ there is my case. I have the 
idea, but I will not strike ; it is not worth the doing un- 
less I’m driven to it. We are brave enough, we idlers,” 
he went on ; “ we die with an air — all artifice, artifice ! 
. . . Yet of late I have had dreams. Now that is not 
well. It is foolish to dream, and I had long since ceased 


IN THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE. 


185 


to do so. But somehow all the mad fancies of my youth 
come back. This dream will go, it will not last ; it is — 
my fate, my doom,” he added lightly, “ or what you 
will ! ” 

I knew, alas, too well where his thoughts were hang- 
ing, and I loathed him anew ; for, as he hinted, his was 
a passion, not a deep, abiding love. His will was not 
stronger than the general turpitude of his nature. As if 
he had divined my thought, he said, “ My will is stronger 
than any passion that I have ; I can never plead weakness 
in the day of my judgment. I am deliberate. When I 
choose evil it is because I love it. I could be an anchor- 
ite ; I am, as I said — what you will.” 

“ You are a conscienceless villain, monsieur.” 

“ Who salves not his soul,” he added, with a dry smile, 
“ who will play his game out as he began ; who repents 
nor ever will repent of anything ; who sees for him and you 
some interesting moments yet. Let me make one now,” 
and he drew from his pocket a packet. He smiled hate- 
fully as he handed it to me, and said, “ Some books which 
monsieur once lent Mademoiselle Duvarney — poems, I 
believe. Mademoiselle found them yesterday, and desired 
me to fetch them to you ; and I obliged her. I had the 
pleasure of glancing through the books before she rolled 
them up. She bade me say that monsieur might find 
them useful in his captivity. She has a tender heart — 
^ even to the worst of criminals.” 

I felt a strange churning in my throat, but with com- 
posure I took the books, and said, “ Mademoiselle Huvar- 
ney chooses distinguished messengers.” 

“ It is a distinction to aid her in her charities,” he 
replied. 

I could not at all conceive what was meant. The 
packet hung in my hands like lead. There was a mystery 
I could not solve. I would not for an instant think what 


186 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


he meant to convey by a look — that her choice of him to 
carry back my gift to her was a final repulse of past 
advances I had made to her, a corrective to my romantic 
memories. I would not believe that, not for one fieeting 
second. Perhaps, I said to myself, it was a ruse of this 
scoundrel. But again, I put that from me, for I did not 
think he would stoop to litcle meannesses, no matter how 
vile he was in great things. I assumed indifference to the 
matter, laying the packet down upon my couch, and say- 
ing to him, “ You will convey my thanks to Mademoiselle 
Duvarney for these books, whose' chief value lies in the 
honourable housing they have had.” 

He smiled provokingly ; no doubt he was thinking 
that my studied compliment smelt of the oil of solitude. 
“And add — shall I — your compliments that they should 
have their airing at the hands of Monsieur Doltaire ? ” 

“ I shall pay those compliments to Monsieur Doltaire 
himself one day,” I replied. 

He waved his fingers. “ The sentiments of one of the 
poems were commendable, fanciful. I remember it” — he 
put a finger to his lip— “ let me see.” He stepped towards 
the packet, but I made a sign of interference — how grate- 
ful was I of this afterwards ! — and he drew back courte- 
ously. “ Ah well,” he said, “ I have a fair memory ; I 
can, I think, recall the morsel. It impressed me. I 
could not think the author an Englishman. It runs 
thus,” and with admirable grace he recited the words : 

“ 0 flower of all the world, 0 flower of all ! 

The garden where thou dwellest is so fair, 

Thou art so goodly, and so queenly tall. 

Thy sweetness scatters sweetness everywhere, 

0 flower of all ! 

“ 0 flower of all the years, 0 flower of all ! 

A day beside thee is a day of days ; 

Thy voice is softer than the throstle’s call, 


IN THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE. 


187 


There is not song enough to sing thy praise, 

0 flower of all I 

“ 0 flbwer of all the years, 0 flower of all ! 

1 seek thee in thy garden, and I dare 
To love thee ; and though my deserts be small, 

Thou art the only flower 1 would wear, 

0 flower of all ! ” 

“ Now that,” he said, “ is the romantic, almost the Ar- 
cadian, spirit. We have lost it, but it lingers like some 
good scent in the folds of lace. It is also but artifice, yet 
so is the lingering perfume. When it hung in the fiower 
it was lost after a day’s life, but when gathered and dis- 
tilled into an essence it becomes, through artifice, an 
abiding sweetness. So with your song there. It is the 
spirit of devotion, gathered, it may be, from a thousand 
flowers, and made into an essence, which is offered to one 
only. It is not the worship of this one, but the worship 
of a thousand distilled at last to one delicate liturgy. So 
much for sentiment,” he continued. “Upon my soul. 
Captain Moray, you are a boon. I love to have you caged. 
I shall watch your distressed career to its close with deep 
scrutiny. You and I are wholly different, but you are 
interesting. You never could be great. Pardon the ego- 
tism, but it is truth. Your brain works heavily, you are 
too tenacious of your conscience, you are a blunderer. 
You will always sow, and others will reap.” 

I waved my hand in deprecation, for I was in no mood 
for further talk, and I made no answer. He smiled at 
me, and said, “ Well, since you doubt my theories, let us 
come, as your Shakespeare says, to Hecuba. ... If you 
will accompany me,” he added, as he opened my cell door 
and motioned me courteously to go outside. I drew back, 
and he said, “ There is no need to hesitate ; I go to show 
you only what will interest you.” 

We passed in silence through the corridors, two senti- 


188 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


nels attending, and at last came into a large square room, 
wherein stood three men with hands tied over their heads 
against the wall, their faces twitching with pain. I drew 
back in astonishment, for, standing before them, were Ga- 
bord and another soldier. Doltaire ordered from the room 
the soldier and my two sentinels, and motioned me to one 
of two chairs set in the middle of the floor. 

Presently his face became hard and cruel, and he said 
to the tortured prisoners, “ You will need to speak the 
truth, and promptly. I have an order to do with you what 
I will. Hear me. Three nights ago, as Mademoiselle 
Duvarney was returning from the house of a friend beside 
the Intendance, she was set upon by you. A cloak was 
thrown over her head, she was carried to a carriage, where 
two of you got inside with her. Some gentlemen and my- 
self were coming that way. We heard the lady’s cries, 
and two gave chase to the carriage, while one followed 
the others. By the help of soldier Gabord here you all 
were captured. You have hung where you are for two 
days, and now I shall have you whipped. When that is 
done, you shall tell your story. If you do not speak truth, 
you shall be whipped again, and then hung. Ladies shall 
have safety from rogues like you.” 

Alixe’s danger told in these concise words made me, I 
am sure, turn pale ; but Doltaire did not see it, he was en- 
gaged with the prisoners. As I thought and wondered 
four soldiers were brought in, and the men were made 
ready for the lash. In vain they pleaded they would tell 
their story at once. Doltaire would not listen ; the whip- 
ping first, and their story after. Soon their backs were 
bared, their faces were turned to the wall, and, as Gabord 
with harsh voice counted, the lashes were mercilessly laid 
on. There was a horrible fascination in watching the skin 
corrugate under the cords, rippling away in red and pur- 
ple blotches, the grooves in the flesh crossing and recross- 


IN THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE. 


180 


ing, the raw misery spreading from the hips to the shoul- 
ders. Now and again Doltaire drew out a box and took a 
pinch of snuff, and once, coolly and curiously, he walked 
up to the most stalwart prisoner and felt his pulse, then 
to the weakest, whose limbs and body had stiffened as 
though dead. “ Ninety-seven I Ninety-eight I Ninety- 
nine I ” growled Gabord, and then came Doltaire’s voice : 

“ Stop ! Now fetch some brandy.” 

The prisoners were loosened, and Doltaire spoke sharp- 
ly to a soldier who was roughly pulling one man’s shirt 
over the excoriated back. Brandy was given by Gabord, 
and the prisoners stood, a most pitiful sight, the weakest 
livid. 

“ Now tell your story,” said Doltaire to this last. 

The man, with broken voice and breath catching, said 
that they had erred. They had been hired to kidnap Ma- 
dame Cournal, not Mademoiselle Duvarney. 

Doltaire’s eyes flashed. “ I see, I see,” he said aside to 
me. “ The wretch speaks truth.” 

“ Who was your master ? ” he asked of the sturdiest of 
the villains ; and he was told that Monsieur Cournal had 
engaged them. To the question what was to be done with 
Madame Cournal, another answered that she was to be 
waylaid as she was coming from the Intendance, kid- 
napped, and hurried to a nunnery, there to be imprisoned 
for life. 

Doltaire sat for a moment, looking at the men in 
silence. “ You are not to hang,” he said at last ; “ but 
ten days hence, when you have had one hundred lashes 
more, you shall go free. Fifty for you,” he continued to 
the weakest, who had first told the story. 

“ Not fifty, nor one ! ” was the shrill reply, and, being 
unbound, the prisoner snatched something from a bench 
near, there was a flash of steel, and he came huddling in 
a heap on the floor, muttering a malediction on the world. 


190 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


“ There was some bravery in that,” said Doltaire, look- 
ing at the dead man. “ If he has friends, hand over the 
body to them. This matter must not be spoken of— at 
your peril,” he added sternly. “ Give them food and 
brandy.” 

Then he accompanied me to my cell, and opened the 
door. I passed in, and he was about going without a word, 
when on a sudden his old nonchalance came back, and he 
said : 

“ I promised you a matter of interest. You have had 
it. Gather philosophy from this : you may with impunity 
buy anything from a knave and fool except his nuptial 
bed. He throws the money in your face some day.” 

So saying he plunged in thought again, and left me. 


XVI. 

BE SAINT OR IMP. 

Immediately I opened the packet. As Doltaire had 
said, the two books of poems I had lent Alixe were there, 
and between the pages of one lay a letter addressed to 
me. It was, indeed, a daring thing to make Doltaire 
her messenger. But she trusted to his habits of cour- 
tesy; he had no small meannesses — he was no spy or 
thief. 

Dear Robert (the letter ran) : I know not if this 
will ever reach you, for I am about to try a perilous thing, 
even to make Monsieur Doltaire my letter-carrier. Bold 
as it is, I hope to bring it through safely. 

You must know that my mother now makes Monsieur 
Doltaire welcome to our home, for his great talents and 
persuasion have so worked upon her that she believes him 


BE SAINT OR IMP. 


191 


not so black as he is painted. My father, too, is not un- 
moved by his amazing address and complaisance. I do 
not think he often cares to use his arts — he is too indo- 
lent ; but with my father, my mother, and my sister he 
has set in motion all his resources. 

Robert, all Versailles is here. This Monsieur Doltaire 
speaks for it. I know not if every court in the world is 
the same, but if so, I am at heart no courtier; though 
I love the sparkle, the sharp play of wit and word, the 
very touch-and-go of weapons. I am in love with life, 
and I wish to live to be old, very old, that I will have 
known it all, from helplessness to helplessness again, miss- 
ing nothing, even though much be sad to feel and bear. 
Robert, I should have gone on many years, seeing little, 
knowing little, I think, if it had not been for you and for 
your troubles, which are mine, and for this love of ours, 
cherished in the midst of sorrows. Georgette is now as 
old as when I first came to love you, and you were thrown 
into the citadel, and yet, in feeling and experience, I am 
ten years older than she; and necessity has made me 
wiser. Ah, if necessity would but make me happy too, 
by giving you your liberty, that on these many miseries 
endured we might set up a sure home ! I wonder if you 
think— if you think of that : a little home away from all 
these wars, aloof from vexing things. 

But there ! all too plainly I am showing you my heart. 
Yet it is so good a comfort to speak on paper to you, in 
this silence here. Can you guess where is that here^ Rob- 
ert ? It is not the Chateau St. Louis— no. It is not the 
manor. It is the chdteau, dear Chdteau Alixe — my 
father has called it that— on the island of Orleans. Three 
days ago I was sick at heart, tired of all the junketings 
and feastings, and I begged my mother to fetch me here, 
though it is yet but early spring, and snow is on the 
ground. 


192 the seats op the mighty. 

First, you must know that this new chdteau is built 
upon, and is joined to, the ruins of an old one, owned long 
years ago by the Baron of Beaugard, whose strange history 
you must learn some day, out of the papers we have found 
here. I begged my father not to tear the old portions of 
the manor down, but, using the first foundations, put up 
a house half castle and half manor. Pictures of the old 
manor were found, and so we have a place that is no 
patchwork, but a renewal. I made my father give me the 
old surviving part of the building for my own, and so it is. 

It is all set on high ground abutting on the water 
almost at the point where I am, and I have the river in 
my sight all day. Now, think yourself in the new build- 
ing. You come out of a dining-hall, hung all about with 
horns and weapons and shields and such bravery, go 
through a dark, narrow passage, and then down a step or 
two. . You open a door, bright light breaks on your eyes, 
then two steps lower, and you are here with me. You 
might have gone outside the dining-hall upon a stone 
terrace, and so have come along to the deep window where 
I sit so often. You may think of me hiding in the cur- 
tains, watching you, though you knew it not till you 
touched the window and I came out quietly, startling you, 
so that your heart would beat beyond counting ! 

As I look up towards the window, the thing first in 
sight is the cage, with the little bird which came to me in 
the cathedral the morning my brother got lease of life 
again : you do remember — is it not so ? It never goes from 
my room, and though I have come here but for a week I 
muffled the cage well and brought it over ; and there the 
bird swings and sings the long day through. I have 
heaped the window-seats with soft furs, and one of these 
I prize most rarely. It was a gift — and whose, think you ? 
Even a poor soldier’s. You see I have not all friends 
among the great folk. I often lie upon that soft robe of 


BE SAINT OR IMP. 


193 


sable — ay, sable, Master Robert — and think of him who 
gave it to me. Now I know you are jealous, and I can 
see your eyes flash up. But you shall at once be soothed. 
It is no other than Gabord’s gift. He is now of the Gov- 
ernor’s body-guard, and I think is by no means happy, 
and would prefer service with the Marquis de Montcalm, 
who goes not comfortably with the Intendant and the 
Governor. 

One day Gabord came to our house on the ramparts, 
and, asking for me, blundered out, “ Aho, what shall a 
soldier do with sables? They are for gentles and for 
wrens to snuggle in. Here comes a Russian count over- 
sea, and goes mad in tavern. Here comes Gabord, and 
saves count from ruddy crest for kissing the wrong 
wench. Then count falls on Gabord’s neck, and kisses 
both his ears, and gives him sables, and crosses oversea 
again; and so good-bye to count and his foolery. And 
sables shall be ma’m’selle’s, if she will have them.” He 
might have sold the thing for many louis, and yet he 
brought it to me ; and he would not go till he had seen 
me sitting on it, muffling my hands and face in the 
soft fur. 

Just now, as I am writing, I glance at the table where 
I sit — a small brown table of oak, carved with the name of 
Felise, Baroness of Beaugard. She sat here ; and some 
day, when you hear her story, you will know why I begged 
Madame Lotbini^re to give it to me in exchange for an- 
other, once the King’s. Carved, too, beneath her name, 
are the words, “ 0 tarry thou the Lord's leisure.'" 

And now you shall laugh with me at a droll thing 
Georgette has given me to wipe my pen upon. There are 
three little circles of deerskin and one of ruby velvet, 
stitched together in the centre. Then, standing on the 
velvet is a yellow wooden chick, with little eyes of beads, 
and a little wooden bill stuck in most quaintly, and a 


194 


THE SEATS OE THE MlGHTV. 


head that twists like a weathercock. It has such a piquant 
silliness of look that I laugh at it most heartily, and I 
have an almost elfish fun in smearing its downy feathers. 
I am sure you did not think I could be amused so easily. 
You shall see this silly chick one day, humorously ugly 
and all daubed with ink. 

There is a low couch in one corner of the room, and 
just above hangs a picture of my mother. In another 
corner is a little shelf of books, among them two which I 
have studied constantly since you were put in prison — 
your great Shakespeare, and the writings of one Mr. 
Addison. I had few means of studying at first, so diffi- 
cult it seemed, and all the words sounded hard ; but there 
is here, as you know, your countryman, one Lieutenant 
Stevens of Rogers’s Rangers, a prisoner, and he has helped 
me, and is ready to help you when the time comes for 
stirring. I teach him French ; and though I do not talk 
of you, he tells me in what esteem you are held in Vir- 
ginia and in England, and is not slow to praise you on 
his own account, which makes me more forgiving when 
he would come to sentiment ! 

In another corner is my spinning-wheel, and there 
stands a harpsichord, just where the soft sun sends in 
a ribbon of light; and I will presently play for you 
a pretty song. I wonder if you can hear it? Where 
I shall sit at the harpsichord the belt of sunlight will fall 
across my shoulder, and, looking through the window, I 
shall see your prison there on the Heights; the silver 
flag with its gold lilies on the Chdteau St. Louis ; the 
great guns of the citadel; and far off at Beauport the 
Manor House and garden which you and I know so well, 
and the Falls of Montmorenci, falling like white flowing 
hair from the tall cliff. 

You will care to know of how these months have been 
spent, and what news of note there is of the fighting be- 


BE SAINT OR IMP. 


195 


tween our countries. No matters of great consequence 
have come to our ears, save that it is thought your navy 
may descend on Louisburg ; that Ticonderoga is also to 
be set upon, and Quebec to be besieged in the coming 
summer. From France the news is various. Now, Fred- 
erick of Prussia and England defeat the allies, France, 
Russia, and Austria ; now, they, as Monsieur Doltaire says, 
“ send the great Prussian to verses and the megrims.” 
For my own part, I am ever glad to hear that our cause is 
victorious, and letters that my brother writes me rouse all 
my ardour for my country. Juste has grown in place and 
favour, and in his latest letter he says that Monsieur Dol- 
taire’s voice has got him much advancement. He also re- 
marks that Monsieur Doltaire has reputation for being one 
of the most reckless, clever, and cynical men in France. 
Things that he has said are quoted at ball and rout. Yet 
the King is angry with him, and La Pompadour’s caprice 
may send him again to the Bastile. These things Juste 
heard from D’Argenson, Minister of War, through his 
secretary, with whom he is friendly. 

I will now do what I never thought to do : I will 
send you here some extracts from my journal, which will 
disclose to you the secrets of a girl’s troubled heart. 
Some folk might say that I am unmaidenly in this. But 
I care not, I fear not. 


Decemler 2^. I was with Robert to-day. I let him 
see what trials I had had with Monsieur Doltaire, and 
what were like to come. It hurt me to tell him, yet it 
would have hurt me more to withhold them. I am hurt 
whichever way it goes. Monsieur Doltaire rouses the 
worst parts of me. On the one hand I detest him for his 
hatred of Robert, and for his evil life, yet on the other I 
must needs admire him for his many graces — why are not 
the graces of the wicked horrible ?— f or his singular abili- 


196 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


ties, and because, gamester though he may be, he is no 
public robber. Then, too, the melancholy of his birth and 
history claim some sympathy. Sometimes when I listen 
to him speak, hear the almost piquant sadness of his words, 
watch the spirit of isolation which, by design or other- 
wise, shows in him, for the moment I am conscious of a 
pity or an interest which I flout in wiser hours. This is 
his art, the deep danger of his personality. 

To-night he came, and with many flne phrases wished 
us a happy day to-morrow, and most deftly worked upon 
my mother and Georgette by looking round and speaking 
with a quaint sort of raillery — ^half pensive, it was of the 
peace of this home-life of ours; and, indeed, he did it so 
inimitably that I was not sure how much was false and 
how much true. I tried to avoid him to-day, but my 
mother constantly made private speech between us easy. 
At last he had his way, and then I was not sorry ; for 
Georgette was listening to him with more colour than she 
is wont to wear. I would rather see her in her grave than 
with her hand in his, her sweet life in his power. She is 
unschooled in the ways of the world, and she never will 
know it as I now do. How am I sounding all the depths ! 
Can a woman walk the dance with evil, and be no worse 
for it by-and-bye? Yet for a cause, for a cause ! What 
can Ido? I can not say, “ Monsieur Doltaire, you must 
not speak with me, or talk with me ; you are a plague- 
spot.” No, I must even follow this path, so it but lead at 
last to Robert and his safety. 

Monsieur, having me alone at last, said to me, “ I have 
kept my word as to the little boast : this Captain Moray 
still lives.” 

“ You are not greater than I thought,” said I. 

He professed to see but one meaning in my words, and 
answered, “ It was, then, mere whim to see me do this 
thing, a lady’s curious mind, eh ? My faith, I think your 


BE SAINT OR IMP. I97 

sex are the true scientists : you try experiment for no 
other reason than to see effect.” 

“ You forget my deep interest in Captain Moray,” said 
I, with airy boldness. 

He laughed. He was disarmed. How could he think 
I meant it ! “ My imagination halts,” he rejoined. “ Mil- 
lenium comes when you are interested. And yet,” he 
continued, “ it is my one ambition to interest you, and 1 
will do it, or I will say my prayers no more.” 

“ But how can that be done no more, 

Which ne’er was done before ? ” 

I retorted, railing at him, for I feared to take him se- 
riously. 

“ There you wrong me,” he said. “ I am devout ; I 
am a lover of the Scriptures — their beauty haunts me ; I 
go to mass — its dignity affects me ; and I have prayed, as 
in my youth I wrote verses. It is not a matter of mo- 
rality, but of temperament. A man may be religious and 
yet be evil. Satan fell, but he believed and he admired, 
as the English Milton wisely shows it.” 

I was most glad that my father came between us at 
that moment ; but before monsieur left, he said to me, 
“ You have challenged me. Beware : I have begun this 
chase. Yet I would rather he your follower, rather have 
your arrow in me, than be your hunter.” He said it with 
a sort of warmth, which I knew was a glow in his senses 
merely ; he was heated with his own eloquence. 

“ Wait,” returned I. “ You have heard the story of 
King Artus ? ” 

He thought a moment. “ No, no. I never was a child 
as other children. I was always comrade to the imps.” 

“ King Artus,” said I, “ was most fond of hunting.” 
(It is but a legend with its moral, as you know.) “ It was 
forbidden by the priests to hunt while mass was being said. 

14 


198 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


One day, at the lifting of the host, the King, hearing a 
hound bay, rushed out, and gathered his pack together ; 
but as they went, a whirlwind caught them up into the 
air, where they continue to this day, following a lonely 
trail, never resting, and all the gaihe they get is one fly 
every seventh year. And now, when all on a sudden at 
night you hear the trees and leaves and the sleepy birds 
and crickets stir, it is the old King hunting — for the fox 
he never gets.” 

Monsieur looked at me with curious intentness. “ You 
have a great gift,” he said ; “ you make your point by al- 
lusion. I follow you. But see : when I am hloion into the 
air I shall not ride alone. Happiness is the fox we ride 
to cover, you and I, though we find but a firefly in the 
end.” 

“ A poor reply,” I remarked easily ; “ not worthy of 
you.” 

“ As worthy as I am of you,” he rejoined ; then he 
kissed my hand. “ I will see you at mass to-morrow.” 

Unconsciously, I rubbed the hand he kissed with my 
handkerchief. 

“ I am not to be provoked,” he said. “ It is much to 
have you treat my kiss with consequence.” 

March 25. No news of Robert all this month. Ga- 
bord has been away in Montreal. I see Voban only now 
and then, and he is strange in manner, and can do noth- 
ing. Mathilde is better — so still and desolate, yet not 
wild ; but her memory is all gone, save for that “ Fran- 
cois Bigot is a devil.” My father has taken anew a strong 
dislike to Monsieur Doltaire, because of talk that is 
abroad concerning him and Madame Cournal. I once 
thought she was much sinned against, but now I am sure 
she is not to be defended. She is most defiant, though 
people dare not shut their doors against her. A change 


BE SAINT OR IMP. 


199 


seemed to come over her all at once, and over her husband 
also. He is now gloomy and taciturn, now foolishly gay, 
yet he is little seen with the Intendant, as before. How- 
ever it be. Monsieur Doltaire and Bigot are no longer in- 
timate. What should I care for that, if Monsieur Dol- 
taire had no power, if he were not the door between Robert 
and me ? What care I, indeed, how vile he is, so he but 
serve my purpose ? Let him try my heart and soul and 
senses as he will ; I will one day purify myself of his pres- 
ence and all this soiling, and find my peace in Robert’s 
arms — or in the quiet of a nunnery. 

This morning I got up at sunrise, it being the Annun- 
ciation of the Virgin, and prepared to go to mass in the 
chapel of the Ursulines. How peaceful was the world ! 
So still, so still. The smoke came curling up here and 
there through the sweet air of spring, a snowbird tripped 
along the white coverlet of the earth, and before a Cal- 
vary I saw a peasant kneel and say an Ave as he went to 
market. There was springtime in the sun, in the smell 
of the air ; springtime everywhere but in my heart, which 
was all winter. I seemed alone — alone — alone. I felt the 
tears start. But that was for a moment only, I am glad 
to say, for I got my courage again, as I did the night be^ 
fore when Monsieur Doltaire placed his arm at my waist, 
and poured into my ears a torrent of protestations ! 

I did not move at first. But I could feel my cheeks 
grow cold, and something clamp my heart. Yet had ever 
man such hateful eloquence ! There is that in him — oh, 
shame ! oh, shame ! — which goes far with a woman. He 
has the music of passion, and though it is lower than 
love, it is the poetry of the senses. I spoke to him calm- 
ly, I think, begging him place his merits where they 
would have better entertainment ; but I said hard, cold 
things at last, when other means availed not ; which pres- 
ently made him turn upon me in another fashion. 


200 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


His words dropped slowly, with a consummate careful- 
ness, his manner was pointedly courteous, yet there was 
an underpressure of force, of will, which made me see the 
danger of my position. He said tliat I was quite right ; 
that he would wish no privilege of a woman which was 
not given with a frank eagerness ; that to him no woman 
was worth the having who did not throw her whole nature 
into the giving. Constancy — that was another matter. 
But a perfect gift while there was giving at all — that was 
the way. 

“ There is something behind all this,” he said. “ 1 am 
not so vain as to think any merits of mine would influence 
you. But my devotion, my admiration of you, the very 
force of my passion, should move you. Be you ever so set 
against me — and I do not think you are — you should not 
be so strong to resist the shock of feeling. I do not know 
the cause, but I will find it out ; and when I do, I shall 
remove it or be myself removed.” He touched my arm 
with his fingers. “ When I touch you like that,” he said, 
“ summer riots in my veins. I will not think that this 
which rouses me so is but power upon one side, and effect 
upon the other. Something in you called me to you, some- 
thing in me will wake you yet. Mon Dieu^ I could wait 
a score of years for my touch to thrill you as yours does 
me ! And I will — I will.” 

“ You think it suits your honour to force my affec- 
tions ? ” I asked ; for I dared not say all I wished. 

“ What is there in this reflecting on my honour ? ” he 
answered. “At Versailles, believe me, they would say I 
strive here for a canonizing. No, no ; think me so gal- 
lant that I follow you to serve you, to convince you that 
the way I go is the way your hopes will lie. Honour ? To 
fetch you to the point where you and I should start to- 
gether on the Appian Way, I would traffic with that, even, 
and say I did so, and would do so a thousand times, if in 


BE SAINT OR IMP. ‘ 


201 


the end it put your hand in mine. Who, who can give 
you what I offer, can offer ? See : I have given myself to 
a hundred women in my time — but what of me ? That 
which was a candle in a wind, and the light went out. 
There was no depth, no life, in that ; only the shadow of 
a man was there those hundred times. But here, now, 
the whole man plunges into this sea, and he will reach the 
lighthouse on the shore, or be broken on the reefs. Look 
in my eyes, and see the furnace there, and tell me if you 
think that fire is for cool corners in the gardens at Neuilly 

or for the Hills of ” He suddenly broke off, and a 

singular smile followed. “ There, there,” he said, “ I have 
said enough. It came to me all at once how droll my 
speech would sound to our people at Versailles. It is an 
elaborate irony that the occasional virtues of certain men 
turn and mock them. That is the penalty of being in- 
consistent. Be saint or imp ; it is the only way. But this 
imp that mocks me relieves you of reply. Yet I have 
spoken truth, and again and again I will tell it you, till 
you believe according to my gospel.” 

How glad I was that he himself lightened the situa- 
tion ! I had been driven to despair, but this strange twist 
in his mood made all smooth for me. “ That ‘ again and 
again ’ sounds dreary,” said I. “ It might almost appear 
I must sometime accept your gospel, to cure you of preach- 
ing it, and save me from eternal drowsiness.” 

We were then most fortunately interrupted. He made 
his adieus, and I went to my room, brooded till my head 
ached, then fell a-weeping, and wished myself out of the 
world, I was so sick and weary. Now and again a hot 
shudder of shame and misery ran through me, as I thought 
of monsieur’s words to me. Put them how he would, 
they sound an insult now, though as he spoke I felt the 
power of his passion. “ If you had lived a thousand years 
ago, you would have loved a thousand times,” he said to 


202 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


me one day. Sometimes I think he spoke truly ; I have 
a nature that responds to all eloquence in life. 

Robert, I have bared my heart to thee. I have hid- 
den nothing. In a few days I shall go back to the city 
with my mother, and when I can I will send news; and 
do thou send me news also, if thou canst devise a safe 
way. Meanwhile I have written my brother Juste to be 
magnanimous, and to try for thy freedom. He will not 
betray me, and he may help us. I have begged him to 
write to thee a letter of reconcilement. 

And now, comrade of my heart, do thou have courage. 
I also shall be strong as I am ardent. Having written 
thee, I am cheerful once more ; and when again I may, I 
will open the doors of my heart that thou mayst come in. 
That heart is thine, Robert. Thy 

Alixe, 

who loves thee all her days. 

P. S. — I have found the names and places of the men 
who keep the guard beneath thy window. If there is 
chance for freedom that way, fix the day some time ahead 
and I will see what may be done. Voban fears nothing ; 
he will act secretly for me. 

The next day I arranged for my escape, which had 
been long in planning. 


XVII. 

THROUGH THE BARS OF THE CAGE. 

I SHOULD have tried escape earlier but that it was 
little use to venture forth in the harsh winter in a hostile 
country. But now April had come, and I was keen to 
make a trial of my fortune. I had been saving food for 
a long time, little by little, and hiding it in the old knap- 


THROUGH THE BARS OP THE CAGE. 


203 


sack which had held my second suit of clothes. I had 
used the little stove for parching my food — Indian corn, 
for which I had professed a fondness to my jailer, and 
liberally paid for out of funds which had been sent me by 
Mr. George Washington in answer to my letter, and other 
moneys to a goodly amount in a letter from Governor 
Dinwiddie. These letters had been carefully written, and 
the Marquis de Vaudreuil, into whose hands they had 
first come, was gallant enough not to withhold them — 
though he read them first. 

Besides Indian corn, the parching of which amused 
me, I had dried ham and tongue, and bread and cheese, 
enough, by frugal use, to last me a month at least. I 
knew it would be a journey of six weeks or more to the 
nearest English settlement, but if I could get that month’s 
start I should forage for the rest, or take my fate as I found 
it : I was used to all the turns of fortune now. My 
knapsack gradually filled, and meanwhile I slowly worked 
my passage into the open world. There was the chance 
that my jailer would explore the knapsack ; but after a 
time I lost that fear, for it lay untouched with a blanket 
in a corner, and I cared for my cell with my own hands. 

The real point of danger was the window. There lay 
my way. It was stoutly barred with iron up and down, 
and the bars were set in the solid limestone. Soon after 
I entered this prison I saw that I must cut a groove in 
the stone from stanchion to stanchion, and then, by draw- 
ing one to the other, make an opening large enough to 
let my body through. For tools I had only a miserable 
knife with which I cut my victuals, and the smaller but 
stouter one which Gabord had not taken from me. There 
could be no pounding, no chiselling, but only rubbing of 
the hard stone. So hour after hour I rubbed away, in 
constant danger of discovery however. My jailer had 
a trick of sudden entrance which would have been gro- 


204 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


tesque had it not been so serious to me. To provide 
against the flurried inquisition of his eye I kept near me 
bread well chewed, with which I filled the hole, covering 
it with the sand I had rubbed or the ashes of my pipe. I 
lived in dread of these entrances, but at last I found that 
they chanced only within certain hours, and I arranged 
my times of work accordingly. Once or twice, however, 

' being impatient, I scratched the stone with some asperity 
and noise, and was rewarded by hearing my fellow stum- 
bling in the hall ; for he had as uncertain limbs as ever I 
saw. He stumbled upon nothing, as you have seen a child 
trip itself up by tangling of its feet. 

The first time that he came, roused by the grating 
noise as he sat below, he stumbled in the very centre of 
the cell, and fell upon his knees. I would have laughed 
if I had dared, but I yawned over the book I had hastily 
snatched up, and puffed great whiffs from my pipe. I 
dreaded lest he should go to the window. He started for 
it, but suddenly made for my couch, and dragged it away, 
as if looking to find a hole dug beneath it. Still I did 
not laugh at him, but gravely watched him ; and present- 
ly he went away. At another time I was foolishly harsh 
with my tools ; but I knew now the time required by him 
to come upstairs, and I swiftly filled the groove with 
bread, strewed ashes and sand over it, rubbed all smooth, 
and was plunged in my copy of Montaigne when he en- 
tered. This time he went straight to the window, looked 
at it, tried the stanchions, and then, with an amused at- 
tempt at being cunning and hiding his own vigilance, he 
asked me, with laborious hypocrisy, if I had seen Captain 
Lancy pass the window. And so for weeks and weeks 
we played hide-and-seek with each other. 

At last I had nothing to do but sit and wait, for the 
groove was cut, the bar had room to play. I could not 
bend it, for it was fast at the top ; but when my hour of 


THROUGH THE BARS OP THE CAGE. 205 


adventure was come, I would tie a handkerchief round the 
two bars and twist it with the piece of hickory used for 
stirring the fire. Here, was my engine of escape, and I 
waited till April should wind to its close, when I should, 
in the softer weather, try my fortune outside these 
walls. 

So time went on until one eventful day, even the 30th 
of April of that year 1758. It was raining and blowing 
when I waked, and it ceased not all the day, coming to a 
hailstorm towards night. I felt sure that my guards 
without would relax their vigilance. In the evening I 
listened, and heard no voices nor any sound of feet, only 
the pelting rain and the whistling wind. Yet I did not 
stir till midnight. Then I slung the knapsack in front 
of me, so that I could force it through the window first, 
and tying my handkerchief round the iron bars, I screwed 
it up with my stick. Presently the bars came together, 
and my way was open- I got my body through by dint 
of squeezing, and let myself go plump into the mire below. 
Then I stood still a minute, and listened again. 

A light was shining not far away. Drawing near, I 
saw that it came from a small hut or lean-to. Looking 
through the cracks, I observed my two gentlemen drows- 
ing in the corner. I was eager for their weapons, but I 
dared not make the attempt to get them, for they were 
laid between their legs, the barrels resting against their 
shoulders. I drew back, and for a moment paused to get 
my bearings. Then I made for a corner of the yard where 
the wall was lowest, and, taking a run at it, caught the 
top, with difficulty scrambled up, and speedily was over 
and fioundering in the mud. I knew well where I was, 
and at once started off in a northwesterly direction, 
toward the St. Charles River, making for a certain farm- 
house above the town. Yet I took care, though it was 
dangerous, to travel a street in which was Voban’s house. 


206 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


There was no light in the street nor in his house, nor had 
I seen any one abroad as I came, not even a sentinel. 

I knew where was the window of the barber’s bed- 
room, and I tapped upon it softly. Instantly I heard a 
stir ; then there came the sound of flint and steel, then a 
light, and presently a hand at the window, and a voice 
asking who was there. 

I gave a quick reply ; the light was put out, the win- 
dow opened, and there was Voban staring at me. 

“ This letter,” said I, “ to Mademoiselle Duvarney,” 
and I slipped ten louis into his hand also. 

The coins he quickly handed back. “ M’sieu’,” said 
he, “ if I take it I would seem to myself a traitor — no, 
no. But I will give the letter to ma’m’selle.” 

Then he asked me in; but I would not, yet begged 
him, if he could, to have a canoe at my disposal at a point 
below the Falls of Montmorenci two nights hence. 

“ M’sieu’,” said he, “ I will do so if I can, but I am 
watched. I would not pay a sou for my life — no. Yet 1 
will serve you, if there is a way.” 

Then I told him what I meant to do, and bade him 
repeat it exactly to Alixe. This he swore to do, and I 
cordially grasped the good wretch’s shoulder, and thanked 
him with all my heart. I got from him a weapon, also, 
and again I put gold louis into his hand, and bade him 
keep them, for I might need his kind offices to spend it 
for me. To this he consented, and I plunged into the 
dark again. I had not gone far when I heard footsteps 
coming, and I drew aside into the corner of a porch. A 
moment, then the light flashed full upon me. I had my 
hand upon the hanger I had got from Voban, and I was 
ready to strike if there were need, when Gabord’s voice 
broke on my ear, and his hand caught at the short sword 
by his side. 

“ ’Tis dickey-bird, aho ! ” cried he. There was exul- 


THROUGH THE BARS OP THE CAGE. 207 


tation in his eye and voice. Here was a chance for him 
to prove himself against me ; he had proved himself for 
me more than once. 

“ Here was I,” added he, “ making for M’sieu’ Voban, 
that he might come and bleed a sick soldier, when who 
should come running but our English captain! Come 
forth, aho ! ” 

“ No, Gabord,” said I, “ I’m bound for freedom.” I 
stepped forth. His sword was poised against me. I was 
intent to make a desperate fight. 

“ March on,” returned he, gruffly, and I could feel the 
iron in his voice. 

“ But not with you, Gabord. My way lies towards Vir- 
ginia.” 

I did not care to strike the first blow, and I made to 
go past him. His lantern came down, and he made a 
catch at my shoulder. I swung back, threw off my cloak 
and up my weapon. 

Then we fought. My knapsack troubled me, for it 
was loose, and kept shifting. Gabord made stroke after 
stroke, watchful, heavy, offensive, muttering to himself as 
he struck and parried. There was no hatred in his eyes, 
but he had the lust of fighting on him, and he was breath- 
ing easily and could have kept this up for hours. As 
we fought I heard a clock strike one in a house near. 
Then a cock crowed. I had received two slight wounds, 
and I had not touched my enemy. But I was swifter, 
and I came at him suddenly with a rush, and struck for 
his left shoulder when I saw my chance. I felt the steel 
strike the bone. As I did so he caught my wrist and 
lunged most fiercely at me, dragging me to him. The 
blow struck straight at my side, but it went through the 
knapsack, which had swung loose, and so saved my life ; 
for another instant and I had tripped him up, and he lay 
bleeding badly. 


208 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


“Ahol ’twas a fair fight,” said he. “Now get you 
gone. I call for help.” 

“ I can not leave you so, Gabord,” said I. I stooped 
and lifted up his head. 

“ Then you shall go to citadel,” said he, feeling for his 
small trumpet. 

“ No, no,” I answered ; “ I’ll go fetch Voban.” 

“ To bleed me more ! ” quoth he whimsically ; and I 
knew well he was pleased I did not leave him. “Nay, 
kick against yonder door. It is Captain Lancy’s.” 

At that moment a window opened, and Lancy’s voice 
was heard. Without a word I seized the soldier’s lan- 
tern and my cloak, and made away as hard as I could go. 

“ I’ll have a wing of you for lantern there ! ” roared 
Gabord, swearing roundly as I ran off with it. 

With all my might I hurried, and was soon outside the 
town, and coming fast to the farmhouse about two miles 
beyond. Nearing it, I hid the lantern beneath my cloak 
and made for an outhouse. The door was not locked, and 
I passed in. There was a loft nearly full of hay, and I 
crawled up and dug a hole far down against the side of 
the building, and climbed in, bringing with me for drink 
a nest of hen’s eggs which I found in the corner. The 
warmth of the dry hay was comforting, and after caring 
for my wounds, which I found were but scratches, I had 
somewhat to eat from my knapsack, drank up two eggs, 
and then coiled myself for sleep. It was my purpose, if 
not discovered, to stay where I was two days, and then to 
make for the point below the Falls of Montmorenci where 
I hoped to find a canoe of Voban’s placing. 

When I waked it must have been near noor, so I lay 
still for a time, listening to the cheerful noise o"^ fowls and 
cattle in the yard without, and to the clacking of a hen 
above me. The air smelt very sweet. I also heard my 
unknowing host, at whose table I had once sat, two years 


THROUGH THE BARS OF THE CAGE. 209 

before, talking with his son, who had just come over from 
Quebec, bringing news of my escape, together with a won- 
derful story of the fight between Gabord and myself. It 
had, by his calendar, lasted some three hours, and both of 
us, in the end, fought as we lay upon the ground. “ But 
presently along comes a cloaked figure, with horses, and 
he lifts m’sieu’ the Englishman upon one, and away they 
ride like the devil towards St. Charles River and Beau- 
port. Gabord was taken to the hospital, and he swore 
that Englishman would not have got away if stranger had 
not fetched him a crack with a pistol-butt which sent him 
dumb and dizzy. And there M’sieu’ Lancy sleep snug 
through all until the horses ride away ! ” 

The farmer and his son laughed heartily, with many a 
“ By Gar ! ” their sole English oath. Then came the news 
that six thousand livres were offered for me, dead or liv- 
ing, the drums beating far and near to tell the people so. 

The farmer gave a long whistle, and in a great bustle 
set to calling all his family to arm themselves and join 
with him in this treasure-hunting. I am sure at least a 
dozen were at the task, searching all about ; nor did they 
neglect the loft where I lay. But I had dug far down, 
drawing the hay over me as I went, so that they must 
needs have been keen to smell me out. After about three 
hours’ poking about over all the farm, they met again 
outside this building, and I could hear their gabble plainly. 
The smallest among them, the piping chore-boy, he was 
for spitting me without mercy; and the milking-lass 
would toast me with a hay-fork, that she would, and six 
thousand livres should set her up forever. 

In the midst of their rattling came two soldiers, who 
ordered them about, and with much blustering began 
searching here and there, and chucking the maids under 
the chins, as I could tell by their little bursts of laughter 
and the “ La m’sieu’s ! ” which trickled through the hay. 


210 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


I am sure that one such little episode saved me ; for 1 
heard a soldier just above me poking and tossing hay with 
uncomfortable vigour. But presently the amorous hunter 
turned his thoughts elsewhere, and I was left to myself, 
and to a . late breakfast of parched beans, and bread, and 
raw eggs, after which I lay and thought ; and the sum of 
the thinking was that I would stay where I was till the 
first wave of the hunt had passed. 

Near midnight of the second day I came out secretly 
from my lurking-place, and faced straight for the St. 
Charles River. Finding it at high water, I plunged in, 
with my knapsack and cloak on my head, and made my 
way across, reaching the opposite shore safely. After 
going two miles or so, I discovered friendly covert in the 
woods, where, in spite of my cloak and dry cedar boughs 
wrapped round, I shivered as I lay until the morning. 
When the sun came up, I drew out ; and after I was dry 
again I crawled back into my nest and fell into a broken 
sleep. Many times during the day I heard the horns of 
my hunters, and voices near me more than once. But I 
had crawled into the hollow of a half-uprooted stump, and 
the cedar branches, which had been cut off a day or two 
before, were a screen. I could see soldiers here and there, 
armed and swaggering, and faces of peasants and shop- 
keepers whom I knew. 

A function was being made of my escape ; it was a 
hunting-feast, in which women were as eager as their hus- 
bands and their brothers. There was something devilish 
in it, when you come to think of it : a whole town roused 
and abroad to hunt down one poor fugitive, whose only 
sin was, in themselves, a virtue — loyalty to his country. 1 
saw women armed with sickles and iron forks, and lads 
bearing axes and hickory poles cut to a point like a spear, 
while blunderbusses were in plenty. Now and again a 
weapon was fired, and, to watch their motions and peep- 



“ It is no use, dear captain,” said Doltaire 






THROUGH THE BARS OF THE CAGE. 


211 


ings, it might have been thought I was a dragon, or that 
they all were hunting La Jongleuse, their fabled witch, 
whose villainies, are they not told at every fireside ? 

Often I shivered violently, and anon I was burning 
hot ; my adventure had given me a chill and fever. Late 
in the evening of this day, my hunters having drawn off 
with as little sense as they had hunted me, I edged cau- 
tiously down past Beauport and on to the Montmorenci 
Falls. I came along in safety, and reached a spot near 
the point where Voban was to hide the boat. The high- 
way ran between. I looked out cautiously. I could hear 
and see nothing, and so I ran out, crossed the road, and 
pushed for the woods on the banks of the river. I had 
scarcely got across when I heard a shout, and looking 
round I saw three horsemen, who instantly spurred to- 
wards me. I sprang through the underbrush, and came 
down roughly into a sort of quarry, spraining my ankle 
on a pile of stones. I got up quickly ; hut my ankle 
hurt me sorely, and I turned sick and dizzy. Limping 
a little way, I set my back against a tree and drew my 
hanger. As I did so, the three gentlemen burst in upon 
me. They were General Montcalm, a gentleman of the 
Governor’s household, and Doltaire ! 

“ It is no use, dear captain,” said Doltaire. “ Yield 
up your weapon.” 

General Montcalm eyed me curiously, as the other 
gentleman talked in low, excited tones ; and presently 
he made a gesture of courtesy, for he saw that I was 
hurt. Doltaire’s face wore a malicious smile ; but when 
he noted how sick I was, he came and offered me his arm, 
and was constant in courtesy till I was set upon a horse ; 
and with him and the General riding beside me I came 
to my new imprisonment. They both forbore to torture 
me with words, for I was suffering greatly; but they 
fetched me to the Chateau St. Louis, followed by a crowd, 


212 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


who hooted at me. Doltaire turned on them at last, and 
stopped them. 

The Governor, whose petty vanity was roused, showed 
a foolish fury at seeing me, and straightway ordered me 
to the citadel again. 

“ It’s useless kicking ’gainst the pricks,” said Doltaire 
to me cynically, as I passed out limping between two sol- 
diers ; but I did not reply. In another half hour of bit- 
ter journeying I found myself in my dungeon. I sank 
upon the old couch of straw, untouched since I had left 
it ; and when the door shut upon me, desponding, aching 
in all my body, now feverish and now shivering, my ankle 
in great pain, I could bear up no longer, and I bowed my 
head and fell a- weeping like a woman. 


' XVIII. 

THE STEEP PATH OF CONQUEST. 

Now I am come to a period on which I shall not dwell, 
nor repeat a tale of suffering greater than that I had yet 
endured. All the first night of this new imprisonment 
I tossed on my wretched bed in pain and misery. A 
strange and surly soldier came and went, bringing bread 
and water ; but when I asked that a physician be sent me, 
he replied, with a vile oath, that the devil should be my 
only surgeon. Soon he came again, accompanied by an- 
other soldier, and put irons on me. With what quietness 
I could I asked him by whose orders this was done ; but 
he vouchsafed no reply save that I was to “ go bound to 
fires of hell.” 

“ There is no journeying there,” I answered ; “ here is 
the place itself.” 

Then a chain was roughly put round my injured 


THE STEEP PATH OF CONQUEST. 


213 


ankle, and it gave me such agony that I turned sick, but 
I kept back groaning, for I would not have these varlets 
catch me quaking. 

“ I’ll have you grilled for this one day,” said I. “ You 
are no men, but butchers. Can you not see my ankle has 
been sorely hurt ? ” 

“ You are for killing,” was the gruff reply, “ and here’s 
a taste of it.” 

With that he drew the chain with a jerk round the 
hurt member, so that it drove me to madness. I caught 
him by the throat and hurled him back against the wall, 
and, snatching a pistol from his comrade’s belt, aimed it at 
his head. I was beside myself with pain, and if he had 
been further violent I should straightway have shot him. 
His fellow dared not stir in his defenee, for the pistol was 
trained on him too surely; and so at last the wretch, 
promising better treatment, crawled to his feet, and made 
motion for the pistol to be given him. But I would not 
3deld it, telling him it should be a guarantee of truce. 
Presently the door closed behind them,' and I sank back 
upon the half-fettered chains. 

I must have sat for more than an hour, when there 
was a noise without, and there entered the commandant, 
the Marquis de Montcalm, and the Seigneur Duvarney. 
The pistol was in my hand, and I did not put it down, 
but struggled to my feet, and waited for them to speak. 

For a moment there was silence, and then the com- 
mandant said, “ Your guards have brought me word. Mon- 
sieur le Capitaine, that you are violent. You have re- 
sisted them, and have threatened them with their own 
pistols ” 

“ With one pistol, monsieur le commandant,” an- 
swered I. Then, in bitter words, I told them of my treat- 
ment by those rascals, and I showed them how my ankle 
had been tortured. “ I have no fear of death,” said I, 
15 


214 


THK SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


“ but I will not lie and let dogs bite me with ‘ I thank you.’ 
Death should come but once ; it is a damned brutality to 
make one die a hundred and yet live — ^the work of Turks, 
not Christians ! If you want my life, why, take it and 
have done.” 

The Marquis de Montcalm whispered to the command- 
ant. The Seigneur Duvarney, to whom I had not yet 
spoken, nor he to me, stood leaning against the wall, gaz- 
ing at me seriously and kindly. 

Presently Ramesay, the Commandant, spoke, not un- 
kindly : “ It was ordered you should wear chains, but not 
that you should be maltreated. A surgeon shall be sent 
to you, and this chain shall be taken from your ankle. 
Meanwhile, your guards shall he changed.” 

I held out the pistol, and he took it. “ I can not hope 
for justice here,” said I, “ but men are men, and not dogs, 
and I ask for humane usage till my hour comes and my 
country is your jailer.” 

The Marquis smiled, and his gay eyes sparkled. 
“ Some find comfort in daily bread, and some in prophe- 
cy,” he rejoined. “ One should envy your spirit. Captain 
Moray.” 

“ Permit me, your Excellency,” replied I ; “ all Eng- 
lishmen must envy the spirit of the Marquis de Montcalm, 
though none is envious of his cause.” 

He bowed gravely. “ Causes are good or bad as they 
are ours or our neighbours’. The lion has a good cause 
when it goes hunting for its young ; the deer has a good 
cause when it resists the lion’s leap upon its fawn.” 

I did not reply, for I felt a faintness coming ; and at 
that moment the Seigneur Duvarney came to me and 
put his arm through mine. A dizziness seized me, my 
head sank upon his shoulder, and I felt myself floating 
away into darkness, while froni a great distance came a 
voice : 


THE STEEP PATH OP CONQUEST. 215 

“ It had been kinder to have ended it last year.” 

“ He nearly killed your son, Duvarney.” This was the 
voice of the Marquis in a tone of surprise. 

“ He saved my life, Marquis,” was the sorrowful reply. 
“ I have not paid back those forty pistoles, nor ever can, 
in spite of all.” 

“ Ah, pardon me, seigneur,” was the courteous rejoin- 
der of the General. 

That was all I heard, for I had entered the land of 
complete darkness. When I came to, I found that my 
foot had been bandaged, there was a torch in the wall, 
and by my side something in a jug, of which I drank, 
according to directions in a surgeon’s hand on a paper 
beside it. 

I was easier in all my body, yet miserably sick still, 
and I remained so, now shivering and now burning, a 
racking pain in my chest. My couch was filled with fresh 
straw, but in no other wise was my condition altered from 
the first time I had entered this place. My new jailer 
was a man of no feeling that I could see, yet of no vio- 
lence or cruelty ; one whose life was like a wheel, doing 
the eternal round. He did no more nor less than his 
orders, and I made no complaint nor asked any favour. 
No one came to me, no message found its way. 

Full three months went by in this fashion, and then, 
one day, who should step into my dungeon, torch in hand, 
but Gabord ! He raised the light above his head, and 
looked down at me quizzically. 

“ Upon my soul — Gabord ! ” said I. “ I did not kill 
you, then ? ” 

“ Upon your soul and upon your body, you killed not 
Gabord.” 

“ And what now, quarrelsome Gabord ? ” I questioned 
cheerfully. 

He shook some keys. “ Back again to dickey-bird’s 


216 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


cage. ‘ Look you,’ quoth Governor, ‘ who will guard and 
bait this prisoner like the man he mauled ? ’ ‘No one,’ 
quoth a lady who stands by Governor’s chair. And she it 
was who had Governor send me here — even Ma’m’selle 
Duvarney. And she it was who made Governor loose off 
these chains.” 

He began to free me from the chains. I was in a vile 
condition. The irons had made sores upon my wrists and 
legs, my limbs now trembled so beneath me that I could 
scarcely walk, and my head was very light and dizzy at 
times. Presently Gabord ordered a new bed of straw 
brought in ; and from that hour we returned to our old 
relations, as if there had not been between us a fight to 
the death. Of what was going on abroad he would not 
tell me, and soon I found myself in as ill a state as before. 
No Voban came to me, no Doltaire, no one at all. I sank 
into a deep silence, dropped out of a busy world, a morsel 
of earth slowly coming to Mother Earth again. 

A strange apathy began to settle on me. All those 
resources of my first year’s imprisonment had gone, and I 
was alone : my mouse was dead ; there was no history of 
my life to write, no incident to break the pitiful monot- 
ony. There seemed only one hope : that our army under 
Amherst would invest Quebec and take it. I had no news 
of any movement, winter again was here, and it must be 
five or six months before any action could successfully be 
taken ; for the St. Lawrence was frozen over in winter, 
and if the city was to be seized it must be from the water, 
with simultaneous action by land. 

I knew the way, the only way, to take the city. At 
Sillery, west of the town, there was a hollow in the cliffs, 
up which men, secretly conveyed above the town by water, 
could climb. At the top was a plateau, smooth and fine as 
a parade-ground, where battle could be given, or move be 
made upon the city and citadel, which lay on ground no 


THE STEEP PATH OF CONQUEST. 


217 


higher. Then, with the guns playing on the town from 
the fleet, and from the Levis shore with forces on the 
Beauport side, attacking the lower town where was the 
Intendant’s palace, the great fortress might be taken and 
Canada be ours. 

This passage up the cliff side at Sillery I had discovered 
three years before. 

When winter set well in Gabord brought me a blanket, 
and though last year I had not needed it, now it was most 
grat^ul. I had been fed for months on bread and water, 
as in my flrst imprisonment, but at last — whether by 
orders or not, I never knew — he brought me a little meat 
every day, and some wine also. Yet I .did not care for 
them, and often left them untasted. A hacking cough 
had never left me since my attempt at escape, and I was 
miserably thin and so weak that I could hardly drag my- 
self about my dungeon. So, many weeks of the winter 
went on, and at last I was not able to rise from my bed of 
straw, and could do little more than lift a cup of water to 
my lips and nibble at some bread. I felt that my hours 
were numbered. 

At last, one day I heard commotion at my dungeon 
door ; it opened, and Gabord entered and closed it after 
him. He came and stood over me, as with difficulty I 
lifted myself upon my elbow. 

“ Come, try your wings,” said he. 

“ It is the end, Gabord ? ” asked I. 

“ Not paradise yet ! ” said he. 

“ Then I am free ? ” I asked. 

“ Free from this dungeon,” he answered cheerily. 

I raised myself and tried to stand upon my feet, but 
fell back. He helped me to rise, and I rested an arm on 
his shoulder. 

I tried to walk, but a faintness came over me, and I 
sank back. Then Gabord laid me down, went to the 


218 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


door, and called in two soldiers with a mattress. I was 
wrapped in my cloak and blankets, laid thereon, and so 
was borne forth, all covered even to my weak eyes. I 
was placed in a sleigh, and as the horses sprang away, 
the clear sleigh bells rang out, and a gun from the ram- 
parts was fired to give the noon hour, I sank into uncon- 
sciousness. 


XIX. 

A DANSEUSE AND THE BASTILE. 

Eecovering, I found myself lying on a couch, in a 
large, well-lighted room hung about with pictures and 
adorned with trophies of the hunt. A wide window faced 
the foot of the bed where I lay, and through it I could 
see — though the light hurt my eyes greatly — the Levis 
shore, on the opposite side of the St. Lawrence. I lay 
and thought, trying to discover where I was. It came to 
me at last that I was in a room of the Chateau St. Louis. 
Presently I heard breathing near me, and, looking over, I 
saw a soldier sitting just inside the door. 

Then from another corner of the room came a surgeon 
with some cordial in a tumbler, and, handing it to me, he 
bade me drink. He felt my pulse ; then stopped and put 
his ear to my chest, and listened long. 

“ Is there great danger ? ” asked I. 

“The trouble would pass,” said he, “if you were 
stronger. Your life is worth fighting for, but it will be a 
struggle. That dungeon was slow poison. You must 
have a barber,” added he ; “ you are a ghost like this.” 

I put my hand up, and I found my hair and beard 
were very long and almost white. Held against the light, 
my hands seemed transparent. “ What means my coming 
here ? ” asked I. 


A DANSEUSE AND THE BASTILE. 


219 


He shook his head. “ I am but a surgeon,” he an- 
swered shortly, meanwhile writing with a flourish on a 
piece of paper. When he had finished, he handed the 
pa})er to the soldier with an order. Then he turned to go, 
politely bowing to me, but came again and said, “ I would 
not, were I you, trouble to plan escape these months yet. 
This is a comfortable prison, but it is easier coming in 
than going out. Your mind and body need quiet. You 
have, we know, a taste for adventure ” — he smiled — “ but 
is it wise to fight a burning powder magazine?” 

“ Thank you, monsieur,” said I, “ I am myself laying 
the fuse to that magazine. It fights for me by-and- 
bye.” 

He shrugged a shoulder. “ Drink,” said he, with a 
professional air which almost set me laughing, “good 
milk and brandy, and think of nothing but that you are 
a lucky man to have this sort of prison.” 

He bustled out in an important way, shaking his head 
and talking to himself. Tapping the chest of a bulky 
soldier who stood outside, he said brusquely, “ Too fat, too 
fat ; you’ll come to apoplexy. Go fight the English, lazy 
ruffian ! ” 

The soldier gave a grunt, made a mocking gesture, and 
the door closed on me and my attendant. This fellow 
would not speak at all, and I did not urge him, but lay 
and watched the day decline and night come down. 1 
was taken to a small alcove which adjoined the room, 
where I slept soundly. 

Early the next morning I waked, and there was Voban 
sitting just outside the alcove, looking at me. I sat up in 
bed and spoke to him, and he greeted me in an absent sort 
of way. He was changed as much as I ; he moved as one 
in a dream ; yet there was the ceaseless activity of the eye, 
the swift, stealthy motion of the hand. He began to at- 
tend me, and I questioned him ; but he said he had orders 


2<‘Z0 the seats op THE MIGHTY. 

from mademoiselle that he was to tell nothing — that she, 
as soon as she could, would visit me. 

About three hours after this, as I lay upon the couch 
in the large room, clean and well shaven, the door opened, 
and some one entered, saying to my guard, “You will re- 
main outside. I have the Governor’s order.” 

I knew the voice ; an instant, and I saw the face shin- 
ing with expectancy, the eye's eager, yet timid, a small 
white hand pressed to a pulsing breast — my one true 
friend, the jailer of my heart ! 

For a moment she was all trembling and excited, her 
hand softly clutching at my shoulder, tears dripping from 
her eyes and falling on my cheek, as hers lay pressed to 
mine ; but presently she grew calm, and her face was lifted 
with a smile, and, brushing back some flying locks of hair, 
she said in a tone most quaint and touching too, “ Poor 
gentleman ! poor English prisoner ! poor hidden lover ! I 
ought not, I ought not,” she added, “show my feel- 
ings thus, nor excite you so.” My hand was trembling 
on hers, for in truth I was very weak. “ It was my pur- 
pose,” she continued, “ to come most quietly to you, but 
there are times when one must cry out or the heart will 
burst.” 

I spoke then as a man may who has been delivered 
from bondage into the arms of love. She became very 
quiet, looking at me in her grave, sweet way, her deep 
eyes shining with sincerity. 

“ Honest, honest eyes,” said I— “ eyes that never de- 
ceive and never were deceived.” 

“ All this in spite of what you do not know,” she an- 
swered. For an instant a look elfish and childlike came 
into her eyes, and she drew back from me, stood in the 
middle of the floor, and caught her skirts in her fingers. 

“ See,” she said, “is there no deceit here?” 

Then she began to dance softly, her feet seeming hardly 


A DANSEUSE AND THE BASTILE. 


221 


to touch the ground, her body swaying like a tall flower 
in the wind, her face all light and Are. I was charmed, 
fascinated. I felt my sleepy blood stirring to the delicate 
rise and fall of her bosom, the light of her eyes flashing a 
dozen colours. There was scarce a sound ; her steps could 
not be heard across the room. 

All at once she broke off from this, and stood still. 

“ Did my eyes seem all honest then?” she asked, with 
a strange, wistful expression. Then she came to the couch 
where I was. 

“ Kobert,” said she, “ can you, do you, trust me even 
when you see me at such witchery ? ” 

“ I trust you always,” answered I. “ Such witcheries 
are no evils that I can see.” 

She put her finger upon my lips, with a kind of bash- 
fulness. “ Hush, till I tell you where and when I danced 
like that, and then, and then ” 

She settled down in a low chair. “ I have at least an 
hour,” she continued. “ The Governor is busy with my 
father and General Montcalm, and they will not be free 
for a long time. For your soldiers, I have been bribing 
them to my service these weeks past, and they are safe 
enough for to-day. Now I will tell you of that dancing. 

“ One night last autumn there was a grand dinner at 
the Intendance. Such gentlemen as my father were not 
asked ; only the roisterers and hard drinkers, and gam- 
bling friends of the Intendant. You would know the sort 
of upspring it would be. Well, I was sitting in my win- 
dow, looking down into the garden, for the moon was 
shining. Presently I saw a man appear below, glance up 
towards me, and beckon. It was Voban. I hurried down 
to him, and he told me that there had been a wild carous- 
ing at the palace, and that ten gentlemen had determined, 
for a wicked sport, to mask themselves, go to the citadel 
at midnight, fetch you forth, and make you run the gant- 


222 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


let in the yard of the Intendance, and afterwards set you 
fighting for your life with another prisoner, a common 
criminal. To this, Bigot, heated with wine, had made no 
objection. Monsieur Doltaire was not present ; he had, it 
was said, taken a secret journey into the English country. 
The Grovernor was in Montreal, where he had gone to dis- 
cuss matters of war with the Council. 

“ There was but one thing to do — get word to Gen- 
eral Montcalm He was staying at the moment with the 
Seigneur Pipon at his manor by the Montmorenci Falls. 
He must needs be sought there : he would never allow this 
shameless thing. So I bade Voban go thither at once, 
getting a horse from any quarter, and to ride as though 
for his life. He promised, and left me, and I returned 
to my room to think. Voban had told me that his news 
came from Bigot’s valet, who is his close friend. This I 
knew, and I knew the valet too, for I had seen something 
of him when my brother lay wounded at the palace. Un- 
der the best circumstances General Montcalm could not 
arrive within two hours. Meanwhile, these miserable men 
might go on their dreadful expedition. Something must 
be done to gain time. I racked my brain for minutes, till 
the blood pounded at my temples. Presently a plan came 
to me. 

“There is in Quebec one Madame Jamond, a great 
Parisian dancer, who, for reasons which none knows, save 
perhaps Monsieur Doltaire, has been banished from France. 
Since she came to Canada, some nine months ago, she has 
lived quietly and religiously, though many trials have been 
made to bring her talents into service; and the Intend- 
ant has made many efforts to have her dance in the palace 
for his guests. But she would not. 

“ Madame Lotbiniere had come to know Jamond, and 
she arranged, after much persuasion, for lessons in danc- 
ing to be given to Lucy, myself, and Georgette, To me 


A DANSEUSE AND THE BASTILE. 


223 


the dancing was a keen delight, a passion. As I danced 
I saw and felt a thousand things, I can not tell you how. 
Now my feet appeared light as air, like thistledown, my 
body to float. I was as a lost soul flying home, flocks of 
birds singing me to come with them into a pleasant land. 

“ Then all that changed, and I was passing through a 
bitter land, with harsh shadows and tall, cold mountains. 
From clefts and hollows figures flew out and caught at 
me with filmy hands. These melancholy things pursued 
me as I flew, till my wings drooped, and I felt that I must 
drop into the dull marsh far beneath, round which trav- 
elled a lonely mist. ^ 

“ But this, too, passed, and I came through a land all 
fire, so that, as I flew swiftly, my wings ^ were scorched, 
and I was blinded often, and often missed my way, and 
must change my course of flight. It was all scarlet, all 
that land — scarlet sky and scarlet sun and scarlet flowers, 
and the rivers running red, and men and women in long 
red robes, with eyes of flame, and voices that kept crying, 
‘ The world is mad, and all life is a fever ! ’ ” 

She paused for a moment, seeming to come out of a 
dream, and then she laughed a little. “ Will you not go 
on ? ” I asked gently. 

“ Sometimes, too,” she said, “ I fancied I was before a 
king and his court, dancing for my life or for another’s. 
Oh, how I scanned the faces of my judges, as they sat 
there watching me ; some meanwhile throwing crumbs to 
fluttering birds that whirled round me, some stroking the 
ears of hounds that gaped at me, while the king’s fool at 
first made mock at me, and the face of a man behind the 
king’s chair smiled like Satan — or Monsieur Doltaire ! 
Ah, Eobert, I know you think me fanciful and foolish, as 
indeed I am ; but you must bear with me. 

“ I danced constantly, practising hour upon hour with 
Jamond, who came to be my good friend ; and you shall 


224 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


hear from me some day her history — a sad one indeed ; 
a woman sinned against, not sinning. But these lessons 
went on secretly, for I was sure, if people knew how 
warmly I followed this recreation, they would set it down 
to wilful desire to be singular — or worse. It gave me new 
interest in lonely days. So the weeks went on. 

“Well, that wicked night I sent Voban to General 
Montcalm, and, as I said, a thought came to me : I would 
find Jamond, beg her to mask herself, go to the Intend- 
ance and dance before the gentlemen there, keeping 
them amused until the General came, as I was sure he 
would at my suggestion, for he is a just man and a gener- 
ous. All my people, even Georgette, were abroad at a 
soiree^ and would not be home till late. So I sought Ma- 
thilde, and she hurried with me, my poor daft protector, 
to Jamond’s, whose house is very near the bishop’s palace. 

“We were at once admitted to Jamond, who was lying 
upon a couch. I hurriedly told her what I wished her to 
do, what was at stake, everything but that I loved you ; 
laying my interest upon humanity and to your having 
saved my father’s life. She looked troubled at once, and 
then took my face in her hands. ‘ Dear child,’ she said, 
‘ I understand. You have sorrow too young — too young.’ 
‘ But you will do this for me ? ’ I cried. She shook her 
head sadly. ‘ I can not. I am lame these two days,’ she 
answered. ‘ I have had a sprain.’ I sank on the floor be- 
side her, sick and dazed. She put her hand pitifully on 
my head, then lifted up my chin. Looking into her eyes, 
I read a thought there, and I got to my feet with a spring. 
‘ I myself will go,’ said I ; ‘ I will dance there till the Gen- 
eral comes.’ She put out her hand in protest. ‘You 
must not,’ she urged. ‘ Think : you may be discovered, 
and then the ruin that must come ! ’ 

“ ‘ I shall put my trust in God,’ said I. ‘ I have no 
fear. I will do this thing.’ She caught me to her breast. 


A DANSEUSE AND THE BASTILE. 


225 


‘Then God be with you, child,’ was her answer; ‘you 
shall do it.’ In ten minutes I was dressed in a gown of 
hers, which last had been worn when she danced before 
King Louis. It fitted me well, and with the wig the 
colour of her hair, brought quickly from her boxes, and 
use of paints which actors use, I was transformed. In- 
deed, I could scarce recognize myself without the mask, 
and with it on my mother would not have known me. 

‘ I will go with you,’ she said to me, and she hurriedly put 
on an old woman’s wig and a long cloak, quickly lined 
her face, and we were ready. She walked lame, and must 
use a stick, and we issued forth towards the Intendance, 
Mathilde remaining behind. 

“ When we got to the palace, and were admitted, I 
asked for the Intendant’s valet, and we stood waiting in 
the cold hall until he was brought. ‘ We come from Voban 
the barber,’ I whispered to him, for there were servants 
near ; and he led us at once to his private room. He did 
not recognize me, but looked at us with sidelong curiosity. 

‘ I am,’ said I, throwing back my cloak, ‘ a dancer, and I 
have come to dance before the Intendant and his guests.’ 
‘ His Excellency does not expect you ? ’ he asked. ‘ His 
Excellency has many times asked Madame Jamond to 
dance before him,’ I replied. He was at once all com- 
plaisance, but his face was troubled. ‘ You come from 
Monsieur Voban ? ’ he inquired. ‘ From Monsieur V oban,’ 
answered I. ‘ He has gone to General Montcalm.’ His 
face fell, and a kind of fear passed over it. ‘ There is no 
peril to any one save the English gentleman,’ I urged. A 
light dawned on him. ‘You dance until the General 
comes? ’ he asked, pleased at his own penetration. ‘ You 
will take me at once to the dining-hall,’ said I, nodding. 
‘ They are in the Chambre de la J oie,’ he rejoined. ‘ Then 
the Chamber de la Joie,’ said I; and he led the way. 
When we came near to the chamber I said to him, ‘ You 


m 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


will tell the Intendant that a lady of some gifts in danc 
ing would entertain his guests ; but she must come and 
go 'without exchange of individual courtesies and at her 
own will. 

“ He opened the door of the chamber, and we followed 
him ; for just inside there was a large oak screen, and 
from its shadow we could see the room and all therein. 
At the first glance I shrank back, for, apart from the 
noise and the clattering of tongues, such a riot of carousal 
I have never seen. I was shocked to note gentlemen 
whom I had met in society, with the show of decorum 
about them, loosed now from all restraint, and swagger- 
ing like woodsmen at a fair. I felt a sudden fear, and 
drew back sick ; but that was for an instant, for even as 
the valet came to the Intendant’s chair a dozen or more 
men, who were sitting together in noisy yet half-secret 
conference, rose to their feet, each with a mask in his 
hand, and started towards the door. I felt the blood fiy 
back and forth in my heart with great violence, and I 
leaned against the oak screen for support. ‘ Courage ! ’ 
said the voice of Jamond in my ear, and I ruled myself 
to quietness. 

“ Just then the Intendant’s voice stopped the men in 
their movement towards the great entrance door, and 
drew the attention of the whole company. ‘ Messieurs,’ 
said he, ‘ a lady has come to dance for us. She makes 
conditions which must be respected. She must be let to 
come and go without individual courtesies. Messieurs,’ 
he added, ‘ I grant her request in your name and my 
own.’ 

“There was a murmur of ‘Jamond! Jamond!’ and 
every man stood looking towards the great entrance door. 
The Intendant, however, was gazing towards the door 
where I was, and I saw he was about to come, as if to wel- 
come me. Welcome from Fran9ois Bigot to a dancing- 


A BANSEtJSE AND THE BASTILE. 


227 


woman ! I slipped off the cloak, looked at Jamond, who 
murmured once again, ‘ Courage ! ’ and then I stepped out 
swiftly, and made for a low, large dais at one side of the 
room. I was so nervous that I knew not how I went. 
The faces and forms of the company were blurred before 
me, and the lights shook and multiplied distractedly. 
The room shone brilliantly, yet just under the great can- 
opy, over the dais, there were shadows, and they seemed 
to me, as I stepped under the red velvet, a relief, a sort 
of hiding-place from innumerable candles and hot, unnat- 
ural eyes. 

“ Once there I was changed. I did not think of the 
applause that greeted me, the murmurs of surprise, ap- 
probation, questioning, rising round me. Suddenly as I 
paused and faced them all, nervousness passed out of me, 
and I saw nothing — nothing but a sort of far-off picture. 
My mind was caught away into that world which I had 
created for myself when I danced, and these rude gentle- 
men were but visions. All sense of indignity passed from 
me. I was only a woman fighting for a life and for her 
own and another’s happiness. 

“ As I danced I did not know how time passed — only 
that I must keep those men where they were till General 
Montcalm came. After a while, when the first dazed 
feeling had passed, I could see their faces plainly through 
my mask, and I knew that I could hold them ; for they 
ceased to lift their glasses, and stood watching me, some- 
times so silent that I could hear their breathing only, 
sometimes making a great applause, which passed into 
silence again quickly. Once, as I wheeled, I caught the 
eyes of Jamond watching me closely. The Intendant 
never stirred from his seat, and scarcely moved, but kept 
his eyes fixed on me. Nor did he applaud. There was 
something painful in his immovability. 

“ I saw it all as in a d roam, yet I did see it, and I was 


228 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


resolute to triumph over the wicked designs of base and 
abandoned men. I feared that my power to hold them 
might stop before help came. Once, in a slight pause, 
when a great noise of their hands and a rattling of scab- 
bards on the table gave me a short respite, some one — 
Captain Lancy, I think — snatched up a glass, and called 
on all to drink my health. 

‘“Jamond! Jamond!’ was the cry, and they drank, 
the Intendant himself standing up, and touching the glass 
to his lips, then sitting down again, silent and immovable 
as before. One gentleman, a nephew of the Chevalier de 
la Darante, came swaying towards me with a glass of wine, 
begging me in a flippant courtesy to drink ; but I waved 
him back, and the Intendant said most curtly, ‘ Monsieur 
de la Darante will remember m'y injunction.’ 

“ Again I danced, and I can not tell you with what 
anxiety and desperation ! — for there must be an end to it 
before long, and your peril, Robert, come again, unless 
these rough fellows changed their minds. Moment after 
moment went, and though I had danced beyond reason- 
able limits, I still seemed to get new strength, as I have 
heard men say, in flghting, they ‘ come to their second 
wind.’ At last, at the end of the most famous step that 
Jamond had taught me, I stood still for a moment to re- 
newed applause ; and I must have wound these men up 
to excitement beyond all sense, for they would not be dis- 
suaded, but swarmed towards the dais where I was, and 
some called on me to remove my mask. 

“Then the Intendant came down among them, bid- 
ding them stand back, and himself moved towards me. I 
felt affrighted, for I liked not the look in his eyes, and so, 
without a word, I stepped down from the dais — I did not 
dare to speak, lest they should recognize my voice — and 
made for the door with as much dignity as I might. But 
the Intendant came quickly to me with a mannered court- 


A DANSEUSE AND THE BASTILE. 229 

esy, and said in my ear, ‘ Madame, you have won all our 
hearts; will you not accept some hospitality — a glass of 
wine and a wing of partridge, in a room where none shall 
disturb you ? ’ I shuddered, and passed on. ‘ Nay, nay, 
madame, not even myself with you, unless you would have 
it otherwise,’ he added. 

“ Still I did not speak, but put out my hand in pro- 
test, and moved on towards the screen, we two alone, for 
the others had fallen back with whisperings and side- 
speeches. Oh, how I longed to take the mask from my 
face and spurn them ! The hand that I put out in protest 
the Intendant caught within his own, and would have 
held it, but that I drew it back with indignation, and 
kept on towards the screen. Then I realized that a new- 
comer had seen the matter, and I stopped short, dum- 
founded — for it was Monsieur Doltaire ! He was stand- 
ing beside the screen, just within the room, and he sent 
at the Intendant and myself a keen, piercing glance. 

“ Now he came forward quickly, for the Intendant also 
half stopped at sight of him, and a malignant look shot 
from his eyes ; hatred showed in the profane word that 
was chopped off at his teeth. When Monsieur Doltaire 
reached us, he said, his eyes resting on me with intense 
scrutiny, ‘ His Excellency will present me to his distin- 
guished entertainer?’ He seemed to read behind my 
mask. I knew he had discovered me, and my heart stood 
still. But I raised my eyes and met his gaze steadily. 
The worst had come. Well, I would face it now. I 
could endure defeat with courage. He paused an instant, 
a strange look passed over his face, his eyes got hard and 
very brilliant, and he continued (oh, what suspense that 
was !) : ‘ Ah yes, I see — Jamond, the perfect and wonder- 
ful Jamond, who set us all a-kneeling at Versailles. If 
madame will permit me ? ’ He made to take my hand. 
Here the Intendant interposed, putting out his hand 
16 


230 the seats op the mighty. 

also. ‘I have promised to protect madame from indi- 
vidual courtesy while here,’ he said. Monsieur Doltaire 
looked at him keenly. ‘ Then your Excellency must build 
stone walls about yourself,’ he rejoined, with cold empha- 
sis. ‘ Sometimes great men are foolish. To-night your 
Excellency would have let ’ — here he raised his voice so 
that all could hear — ‘your Excellency would have let a 
dozen cowardly gentlemen drag a dying prisoner from his 
prison, forcing back his Majesty’s officers at the dungeon 
doors, and, after baiting, have matched him against a 
common criminal. That was unseemly in a great man 
and a King’s chief officer, the trick of a low law-breaker. 
Your Excellency promised a lady to protect her from 
individual courtesy, if she gave pleasure — a pleasure be- 
yond price — to you and your guests, and you would have 
broken your word without remorse. General Montcalm 
has sent a company of men to set your Excellency right 
in one direction, and I am come to set you right in the 
other.’ 

“ The Intendant was white with rage. He muttered 
something between his teeth, then said aloud, ‘ Presently 
we will talk more of this, monsieur. You measure 
strength with Fran9ois Bigot : we will see which proves 
the stronger in the end.’ ‘ In the end the unjust steward 
kneels for mercy to his master,’ was Monsieur Doltaire’s 
quiet answer; and then he made a courteous gesture 
towards the door, and I went to it with him slowly, won- 
dering what the end would be. Once at the other side of 
the screen, he peered into Jamond’s face for an instant, 
then he gave a low whistle. ‘ You have an apt pupil, Ja- 
mond, one who might be your rival one day,’ said he. 
Still there was a puzzled look on his face, which did not 
leave it till he saw Jamond walking. ‘ Ah yes,’ he added, 
‘ I see now. You are lame. This was a desperate yet suo' 
cessful expedient.’ 


A DANSEUSE AND THE BASTILE. 


231 


“ He did not speak to me, but led the way to where, at 
the great door, was the Intendant’s valet standing with 
my cloak. Taking it from him, he put it round my 
shoulders. ‘ The sleigh by which I came is at the door,’ 
he said, ‘ and I will take you home.’ I knew not what to 
do, for I feared some desperate act on his part to possess 
me. I determined that I would not leave Jamond, in any 
case, and I felt for a weapon which I had hidden in my 
dress. We had not, however, gone a half dozen paces in 
the entrance hall when there were quick steps behind, 
and four soldiers came towards us, with an officer at their 
head — an officer whom I had seen in the chamber, but did 
not recognize. 

“ ‘ Monsieur Doltaire,’ the officer said ; and monsieur 
stopped. Then he cried in surprise, ‘ Legrand, you here ! ’ 
To this the officer replied by handing monsieur a paper. 
Monsieur’s hand dropped to his sword, but in a moment 
he gave a short, sharp laugh, and opened up the packet. 

‘ H’m,’ he said, ‘ the Bastile ! The Grande Marquise is 

fretful eh, Legrand ? You will permit me some moments 

with these ladies ? ’ he added. ‘ A moment only,’ answered 
the officer. ‘In another room?’ monsieur again asked. 
‘A moment where you are, monsieur,’ was the reply. 
Making a polite gesture for me to step aside. Monsieur 
Doltaire said, in a voice which was perfectly controlled 
and courteous, though I could hear behind all a deadly 
emphasis, ‘ I know everything now. You have foiled me, 
blindfolded me and all others these three years past. You 
have intrigued against the captains of intrigue, you have 
matched yourself against practised astuteness. On one 
side I resent being made a fool and tool of ; on the other, 
I am lost in admiration of your talent. But henceforth 
there is no such thing as quarter between us. Your lover 
shall die, and I will come again. This whim of the 
Grande Marquise will last but till I see her j then I will 


232 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


return to you — forever. Your lover shall die, your love’s 
labour for him shall be lost. I shall reap where I did not 
sow his harvest and my own. I am as ice to you, made- 

moiselle, at this moment ; I have murder in my heart. 
Yet warmth will come again. I admire you so much that 
I will have you for my own, or die. You are the high 
priestess of diplomacy ; your brain is a statesman’s, your 
heart is a vagrant ; it goes covertly from the sweet mead- 
dow of France to the marshes of England, a taste un- 
worthy of you. You shall be redeemed from that by 
Tinoir Doltaire. Now thank me for all I have done for 
you, and let me say adieu.’ He stooped and kissed my 
hand. ‘ I can not thank you for what I myself achieved,’ 
I said. ‘ We are, as in the past, to be at war, you threaten, 
and I have no gratitude.’ ‘Well, well, adieu and au re- 
voir, sweetheart,’ he answered. ‘ If I should go to the 
Bastile, I shall have food for thought ; and I am your 
hunter to the end ! In this good orchard I pick sweet 
fruit one day.’ His look fell on me in such a way that 
shame and anger were at equal height in me. Then he 
bowed again to me and to Jamond, and, with a sedate 
gesture, walked away with the soldiers and the officer. 

“You can guess what were my feelings. You were 
safe for the moment — that was the great thing. The ter- 
ror I had felt when I saw Monsieur Doltaire in the Cham- 
bre de la Joie had passed, for I felt he would not betray 
me. He is your foe, and he would kill you ; but I wag 
sure he would not put me in danger while he was absent 
in France — if he expected to return — by making public 
my love for you and my adventure at the palace. There 
is something of the noble fighter in him, after all, though 
he is so evil a man. A prisoner himself now, he would 
have no immediate means to hasten your death. But 
I can never forget his searching, cruel look when he rec- 
ognized me! Of Jamond I was sure. Her own past 


A DANSEUSE AND THE BASTILE. 


233 


had been full of sorrow, and her life was now so secluded 
and religious that I could not doubt her. Indeed, we 
have been blessed with good, true friends, Robert, though 
they are not of those who are powerful, save in their 
loyalty.” 

Alixe then told me that the officer Legrand had ar- 
rived from France but two days before the eventful night 
of which I have just written, armed with an order from the 
Grande Marquise for Doltaire’s arrest and transportation. 
He had landed at Gaspe, and had come on to Quebec 
overland. Arriving at the Intendance, he had awaited Dol- 
taire’s coming. Doltaire had stopped to visit General 
Montcalm at Montmorenci Falls, on his way back from 
an expedition to the English country, and had thus him- 
self brought my protection and hurried to his own undo- 
ing. I was thankful for his downfall, though I believed 
it was but for a moment. 

I was curious to know how it chanced I was set free of 
my dungeon, and I had the story from Alixe’s lips ; but 
not till after I had urged her, for she was sure her tale 
had wearied me, and she was eager to do little offices of 
comfort about me ; telling me gaily, while she shaded the 
light, freshened my pillow, and gave me a cordial to drink, 
that she would secretly convey me wines and preserves 
and jellies and such kickshaws, that I should better get 
my strength. 

“ For you must know,” she said, “ that though this 
gray hair and transparency of flesh become you, making 
your eyes look like two jets of flame and your face to have 
shadows most theatrical, a ruddy cheek and a stout hand 
are more suited to a soldier. When you are young again 
in body these gray hairs shall render you distinguished.” 

Then she sat down beside me, and clasped my hand, 
now looking out into the clear light of afternoon to the 
farther shores of Levis, showing green here and there 


234 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


from a sudden March rain, the boundless forests beyond, 
and the ample St. Lawrence still covered with its vast 
bridge of ice ; anon into my face, while I gazed into 
those deeps of her blue eyes that I had drowned my heart 
in. I loved to watch her, for with me she was ever her 
own absolute self, free from all artifice, lost in her perfect 
naturalness : a healthy, quiet soundness, a primitive sim- 
plicity beneath the artifice of usual life. She had a 
beautiful hand, long, warm, and firm, and the fingers, 
when they clasped, seemed to possess and inclose your 
own — the tenderness of the maidenly, the protectiveness 
of the maternal. She carried with her a wholesome fra- 
grance and beauty, as of an orcjiard, and while she sat 
there I thought of the engaging words : 

“ Thou art to me like a basket of summer fruity and I 
seek thee in thy cottage by the vineyard^ fenced about with 
good commendable treesT 

Of my release she spoke thus : “ Monsieur Doltaire is 
to be conveyed overland to the coast en route for France, 
and he has sent me by his valet a small arrow studded 
with emeralds and pearls, and a skull all polished, with 
a message that the arrow was for myself, and the skull 
for another — remembrances of the past, and earnests of 
the future — truly an insolent and wicked man. When he 
was gone I went to the Governor, and, with show of in- 
terest in many things pertaining to the government (for 
he has been flattered by my attentions — me, poor little 
bee in the buzzing hive !), came to the question of the 
English prisoner. I told him it was I that prevented the 
disgrace to his good government by sending to General 
Montcalm to ask for your protection. 

“ He was impressed, and opened out his vain heart 
about the state in divers ways. But I may not tell you of 
these— only what concerns yourself ; the rest belongs to 
his honour. When he was in his most pliable mood, I 


A DANSEUSE AND THE BASTILE. 


235 


grew serious and told him there was a danger which per- 
haps he did not see. Here was his English prisoner, who, 
they said abroad in the town, was dying. There was 
no doubt that the King would approve the sentence of 
death, and if it were duly and with some display enforced, 
it would but add to the Governor’s reputation in France. 
But should the prisoner die in captivity, or should he go 
an invalid to the scaffold, there would only be pity excited 
in the world for him. For his own honour, it were better 
the Governor should hang a robust prisoner, who in full 
blood should expiate his sins upon the scaffold. The ad- 
vice went down like wine ; and when he knew not what 
to do, I urged your being brought here, put under guard, 
and fed and nourished for your end. And so it was. 

“ The Governor’s counsellor in the matter will remain 
a secret, for by now he will be sure that he himself had 
the sparkling inspiration. There, dear Eobert, is the 
present climax to many months of suspense and perse- 
cution, the like of which I hope I may never see again. 
Some time 1 will tell you all : those meetings with Mon- 
sieur Doltaire, his designs and approaches, his pleadings 
and veiled threats, his numberless small seductions of 
words, manners, and deeds, his singular changes of mood, 
when I was uncertain what would happen next ; the part 
I had to play to know all that was going on in the Chateau 
St. Louis, in the Intendance, and with General Montcalm ; 
the diflSculties with my own people ; the despair of my 
poor father, who does not know that it is I who have kept 
him from trouble by my influence with the Governor. 
For since the Governor and the Intendant are reconciled, 
he takes sides with General Montcalm, the one sound 
gentleman in office in this poor country — alas ! ” 

Soon afterwards we parted. As she passed out she told 
me I might at any hour expect a visit from the Governor. 


236 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


XX. 


UPON THE EAMPAKT8. 

The Governor visited me. His attitude was marked 
by nothing so much as a supercilious courtesy, a manner 
which said, You must see I am not to be trifled with ; and 
though I have you here in my chateau, it is that I may 
make a fine scorching of you in the end. He would make 
of me an example to amaze and instruct the nations — 
when I was robust enough to die. 

I might easily have flattered myself on being an ob- 
ject of interest to the eyes of nations. I almost pitied 
him. He appeared so lost in self-admiration that he 
would never see disaster when it came. 

“ There is but one master here in Canada,” he said, 
“and I am he. If things go wrong it is because my 
orders are not obeyed. Your people have taken Louis- 
burg ; had I been there, it should never have been given 
up. Drucour was hasty — he listened to the women. I 
should allow no woman to move me. I should be inflex- 
ible. They might send two Amhersts and two Wolfes 
against me, I would hold my fortress.” 

“ They will never send two, your Excellency,” said I. 

He did not see the irony, and he prattled on : “ That 
Wolfe, they tell me, is bandy-legged; is no better than a 
girl at sea, and never well ashore. I am always in raw 
health — the strong mind in the potent body. Had I been 
at Louisburg, I should have held it as I held Ticonderoga 
last July, and drove the English back with monstrous 
slaughter.” 

Here was news. I had had no information in many 
months, and all at once two great facts were brought 
to me. 

“ Your Excellency, then, was at Ticonderoga?” said I. 


UPON THE RAMPARTS. 


237 


“ I sent Montcalm to defend it,” he replied pompously. 
“ I told him how he must act ; I was explicit, and it came 
out as I had said : we were victorious. Yet he would 
have done better had he obeyed me in everything. If I 
had been at Louisburg ” 

I could not at first bring myself to flatter the vice-regal 
peacock ; for it had been my mind to fight these French- 
men always ; to yield in nothing ; to defeat them like a 
soldier, not like a juggler. But I brought myself to say, 
half ironically, “ If all great men had capable instruments, 
they would seldom fail.” 

“ You have touched the heart of the matter,” said he, 
credulously. “ It is a pity,” he added, with complacent 
severity, “that you have been so misguided and crimi- 
nal ; you have, in some things, more sense than folly.” 

I bowed, as to a compliment from a great man. Then, 
all at once, I spoke to him with an air of apparent frank- 
ness, and said that if I must die, I cared to do so like a 
gentleman, with some sort of health, and not like an in- 
valid. He must admit that at least I was no coward. He 
might fence me about with what guards he chose, but I 
prayed him to let me walk upon the ramparts, when I was 
strong enough to be abroad under all due espionage. I 
had already suffered many deaths, I said, and I would go 
to the final one looking like a man, and not like an out- 
cast of humanity. 

“ Ah, I have heard this before,” said he. “ Monsieur 
Doltaire, who is in prison here, and is to fare on to the 
Bastile, was insolent enough to send me a message yester- 
day that I should keep you close in your dungeon. But 
I had had enough of Monsieur Doltaire ; and, indeed, it 
was through me that the Grande Marquise had him called 
to durance. He was a muddler here. They must not 
interfere with me ; lam not to be cajoled or crossed in 
my plans. We shall see, we shall see about the ramparts. 


238 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


he continued. “Meanwhile prepare to die.” This he 
said with such importance that I almost laughed in his 
face. But I bowed with a sort of awed submission, and 
he turned and left the room. 

I grew stronger slowly day by day, but it was quite a 
month before Alixe came again. Sometimes I saw her 
walking on the banks of the river, and I was sure she was 
there that I might see her, though she made no sign to- 
wards me, nor ever seemed to look towards my window. 

Spring was now fully come. The snow had gone from 
the ground, the tender grass was springing, the air was 
soft and kind. One fine day, at the beginning of May, 
I heard the booming of cannons and a great shouting, 
and, looking out, I could see crowds of people upon the 
banks, and many boats in the river, where yet the ice had 
not entirely broken up. By stretching from my window, 
through the bars of which I could get my head, but not 
my body, I noted a squadron sailing round the point of 
the Island of Orleans. I took it to be a fleet from France 
bearing re-enforcements and supplies— as indeed after- 
wards I found was so j but the re-enforcements were so 
small and the supplies so limited that it is said Montcalm, 
when he knew, cried out, “ Mow is all lost ! Nothing re- 
mains but to fight and die. I shall see my beloved Can- 
diac no more.” 

For the first time all the English colonies had com- 
bined against Canada. Vaudreuil and Montcalm were at 
variance, and Vaudreuil had, through his personal hatred 
and envy of Montcalm, signed the death-warrant of the 
colony by writing to the colonial minister that Montcalm’s 
agents, going for succour, were not to be trusted. Yet 
at that moment I did not know these things, and the 
sight made me grave, though it made me sure also that 
this year would find the British battering this same Chd- 
teau. 


UPON THE RAMPARTS. 


239 


Presently there came word from the Governor that I 
might walk upon the ramparts, and I was taken forth for 
several hours each day ; always, however, under strict sur- 
veillance, my guards, well armed, attending, while the 
ramparts were, as usual, patrolled by soldiers. I could 
see that ample preparations were being made against a 
siege, and every day the excitement increased. I got to 
know more definitely of what was going on, when, under 
vigilance, I was allowed to speak to Lieutenant Stevens, 
who also was permitted some such freedom as I had en- 
joyed when I first came to Quebec. He had private infor- 
mation that General Wolfe or General Amherst was likely 
to proceed against Quebec from Louisburg, and he was 
determined to join the expedition. 

For months he had been maturing plans for escape. 
There was one Clark, a ship-carpenter (of whom I have 
before written), and two other bold spirits, who were sick 
of captivity, and it was intended to fare forth one night 
and make a run for freedom. Clark had had a notable 
plan. A wreck of several transports had occurred at 
Belle Isle, and it was intended by the authorities to send 
him down the river with a sloop to bring hack the crew, 
and break up the wreck. It was his purpose to arm his 
sloop with Mr. Stevens and some English prisoners the 
night before she was to sail, and steal away with her 
down the river. But whether or not the authorities sus- 
pected him, the command was at the last given to an- 
other. 

It was proposed, however, to get away on a dark night 
to some point on the river, where a boat should be sta- 
tioned — though that was a difficult matter, for the river 
was well patrolled and boats were scarce — and drift quietly 
down the stream, till a good distance below the city. Mr. 
Stevens said he had delayed the attempt on the faint hope 
of fetching me along. Money, he said, was needed, for 


240 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


Clark and all were very poor, and common necessaries 
were now at exorbitant prices in the country. Tyranny 
and robbery had made corn and clothing luxuries. All 
the old tricks of Bigot and his La Friponne, which, after 
the outbreak the night of my arrest at the Seigneur Du- 
varney’s, had been somewhat repressed, were in full swing 
again, and robbery in the name of providing for defence 
was the only habit. 

I managed to convey to Mr. Stevens a good sum of 
money, and begged him to meet me every day upon the 
ramparts, until I also should see my way to making a 
dart for freedom. I advised him in many ways, for he 
was more bold than shrewd, and I made him promise 
that he would not tell Clark or the others that I was 
to make trial to go with them. I feared the accident of 
disclosure, and any new failure on my part to get away 
would, I knew, mean my instant death, consent of King 
or no consent. 

One evening, a soldier entered my room, whom in 
the half-darkness I did not recognize, till a voice said, 
“ There’s orders new ! Not dungeon now, but this room 
Governor bespeaks for gentlemen from France.” 

“ And where am I to go, Gabord ? ” 

“ Where you will have fighting,” he answered. 

“ With whom ? ” 

“ Yourself, aho ! ” A queer smile crossed his lips, 
and was followed by a sort of sternness. There was 
something graver in his manner than I had ever seen. 
I could not guess his meaning. At last he added, 
pulling roughly at his mustache, “ And when that’s 
done, if not well done, to answer to Gabord the sol- 
dier ; for, God take my soul without bed-going, but I will 
call you to account ! That Seigneur’s home is no place 
for you.” 

“ You speak in riddles,” said I. Then all at once the 


UPON THE RAMPARTS. 


241 


matter burst upon me. “ The Governor quarters me at 
the Seigneur Duvarney’s ? ” 1 asked. 

“No other,” answered he. “ In three days to go.” 

I understood him now. He had had a struggle, 
knowing of the relations between Alixe and myself, to 
avoid telling the Governor all. And now, if I involved 
her, used her to effect my escape from her father’s 
house ! Even his peasant brain saw my difficulty, the 
danger to my honour — and hers. In spite of the joy I 
felt at being near her, seeing her, 1 shrank from the 
situation. If I escaped from the Seigneur Duvarney’s, 
it would throw suspicion upon him, upon Alixe, and 
that made me stand abashed. Inside the Seigneur 
Duvarney’s house I should feel bound to certain calls 
of honour concerning his daughter and himself. I stood 
long, thinking, Gabord watching me. 

Finally, “ Gabord,” said I, “ I give you my word of 
honour that I will not put Mademoiselle or Monsieur 
Duviirney in peril.” 

“ You will not try to escape ? ” 

“ Not to use them for escape. To elude my guards, 
to fight my way to liberty — yes — yes — yes ! ” 

“ But that mends not. Who’s to know the lady did 
not help you ? ” 

“ You. You are to be my jailer again there ? ” 

He nodded, and fell to pulling his mustache. “ ’Tis 
not enough,” he said decisively. 

“ Come, then,” said I, “ I will strike a bargain with 
you. If you will grant me one thing, I will give my 
word of honour not to escape from the seigneur’s 
house.” 

“ Say on.” 

“ You tell me I am not to go to the seigneur’s for 
three days yet. Arrange that mademoiselle may come to 
me to-morrow at dusk — at six o’clock, when all the world 


242 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


dines — and I will give my word. No more do I ask you 
— only that.” 

“ Done,” said he. “ It shall be so.” 

“ You will fetch her yourself ? ” I asked. 

“ On the stroke of six. Guard changes then.” 

Here our talk ended. He went, and I plunged deep 
into my great plan ; for all at once, as we had talked, 
came a thing to me which I shall make clear ere long. 
I set my wits to work. Once since my coming to the 
chdteau I had been visited by the English chaplain, 
who had been a prisoner at the citadel the year before. 
He was now on parole, and had freedom to come and go 
in the town. The Governor had said he might visit me 
on a certain day every week, at a fixed hour, and the 
next day at five o’clock was the time appointed for his 
second visit. Gabord had promised to bring Alixe to 
me at six. 

The following morning I met Mr. Stevens on the 
ramparts. I told him it was my purpose to escape the 
next night, if possible. If not, I must go to the Seign- 
eur Du Varney’s, where I should be on parole — to Ga- 
bord. I bade him fulfil my wishes to the letter, for 
on his boldness and my own, and the courage of his 
men, I depended for escape. He declared himself ready 
to risk all, and die in the attempt, if need be, for he 
was sick of idleness. He could, he said, mature his plans 
that day, if he had more money. I gave him secretly 
a small bag of gold, and then I made explicit note of 
what I required of him : that he should tie up in a 
loose but safe bundle a sheet, a woman’s skirt, some 
river grasses and reeds, some phosphorus, a pistol and 
a knife, and some saltpetre and other chemicals. That 
evening, about nine o’clock, which was the hour the 
guard changed, he was to tie this bundle to a string I 
should let down from my window and I would draw 


UPON THE RAMPARTS. 


243 


it up. Then, the night following, the others must steal 
away to that place near Sillery — the west side of the 
town was always ill guarded — and wait there with a boat. 
He should see me at a certain part on the ramparts, and, 
well armed, we also would make our way to Sillery, and 
from the spot called the Anse du Foulon drift down the 
river in the dead of night. 

He promised to do all as I wished. 

The rest of the day I spent in my room fashioning 
strange toys out of willow rods. I had got these rods 
from my guards, to make whistles for their children, and 
they had carried away many of them. But now, with 
pieces of a silk handkerchief tied to the whistle and 
filled with air, I made a toy which, when squeezed, sent 
out a weird lament. Once, when my guard came in, I 
pressed one of these things in my pocket, and it gave 
forth a sort of smothered cry, like a sick child. At this 
he started, and looked round the room in trepidation; 
for, of all peoples, these Canadian Frenchmen are the 
most superstitious, and may he worked on without limit. 
The cry had seemed to come from a distance. I looked 
around also, and appeared serious, and he asked me if I 
had heard the thing before. 

“ Once or twice,” said I. 

“ Then you are a dead man,” said he ; “ ’tis a warn- 
ing, that ! ” 

“Maybe it is not I, but one of you,” I answered. 
Then, with a sort of hush, “Is’t like the cry of La Jon- 
gleuse?” I added. (La Jongleuse was their fabled witch, 
or spirit of disaster.) 

He nodded his head, crossed himself, mumbled a 
prayer, and turned to go, but came back. “ I’ll fetch a 
crucifix,” he said. “ You are a heathen, and you bring 
her here. She is the devil’s dam.” 

He left with a scared face, and I laughed to myself 


244 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


quietly, for I saw success ahead of me. True to his word 
he brought a crucifix and put it up — not where he 
wished, hut, at my request, opposite the door, upon the 
wall. He crossed himself before it, and was most de- 
vout. 

It looked singular to see this big, rough soldier, who 
was in most things a swaggerer, so childlike in all that 
touched his religion. With this you could fetch him to 
his knees ; with it I would cow him that I might myself 
escape. 

At half past five the chaplain came, having been de- 
layed by the guard to have his order indorsed by Captain 
Lancy of the Governor’s household. To him I told my 
plans so far as I thought he should know them, and then 
I explained what I wished him to do. He was grave and 
thoughtful for some minutes, but at last consented. He 
was a pious man, and of as honest a heart as I have known, 
albeit narrow and confined, which sprang perhaps from 
his provincial practice and his theological cutting and 
trimming. We were in the midst of a serious talk, where- 
in I urged him upon matters which shall presently be set 
forth, when we heard a noise outside. I begged him to 
retire to the alcove where my bed was, and draw the cur- 
tain for a few moments, nor come forth until I called. 
He did so, yet I thought it hurt his sense of dignity to be 
shifted to a bedroom. 

As he disappeared the door opened, and Gabord and 
Alixe entered. “ One half hour,” said Gabord, and went 
out again. 

Presently Alixe told me her story. 

“ I have not been idle, Robert, but I could not act, for 
my father and mother suspect my love for you. I have 
come but little to the chateau without them, and I was. 
closely watched. I knew not how the thing would end, 
but I kept up my workings with the Governor, which is 


UPON THE RAMPARTS. 


245 


easier now Monsieur Doltaire is gone, and I got you the 
freedom to walk upon the ramparts. Well, once, before 
my father suspected me, I said that if his Excellency dis- 
liked your being in the Chateau, you could be as well 
guarded in my father’s house with sentinels always there, 
until you could, in better health, be taken to the common 
jail again. What was my surprise when yesterday came 
word to my father that he should make ready to receive 
you as a prisoner; being sure that he, his- Excellency’s 
cousin, the father of the man you had injured, and the 
most loyal of Frenchmen, would guard you diligently; 
he now needed all extra room in the Chateau for the en- 
tertainment of gentlemen and officers lately come from 
France. 

“ When my father got the news, he was thrown into 
dismay. He knew not what to do. On what ground 
could he refuse the Governor? Yet when he thought of 
me he felt it his duty to do so. Again, on what ground 
could he refuse this boon to you, to whom we all owe the 
blessing of his life ? On my brother’s account ? But my 
brother has written to my father justifying you, and mag- 
nanimously praising you as a man, while hating you as an 
English soldier. On my account? But he could not 
give this reason to the Governor. As for me, I was silent, 
I waited — and I wait ; I know not what will be the end. 
Meanwhile preparations go on to receive you.” 

I could see that Alixe’s mood was more tranquil since 
Doltaire was gone. A certain restlessness had vanished. 
Her manner had much dignity, and every movement a 
peculiar grace and elegance. She was dressed in a soft 
cloth of a gray tone, touched off with red and slashed 
with gold, and a cloak of gray, trimmed with fur, with 
bright silver buckles, hung loosely on her, thrown off at 
one shoulder. There was a sweet disorder in her hair, 
which indeed was prettiest when freest. 

17 


246 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


When she had finished speaking she looked at me, as 
I thought, with a little anxiety. 

“ Alixe,” I said, “ w’e have come to the cross-roads, and 
the way we choose now is for all time.” 

She looked up, startled, yet governing herself, and her 
hand sought mine and nestled there. “ I feel that, too,” 
she replied. “ What is it, Robert ? ” 

“ I can not in honour escape from your father’s house. 
I can not steal his daughter, and his safety too ” 

“ You must escape,” she interrupted firmly. 

“ From here, from the citadel, from anywhere but your 
house ; and so I will not go to it.” 

“ You will not go to it?” she repeated slowly and 
strangely. “ How may you not? You are a prisoner. If 
they make my father your jailer ” She laughed. 

“ I owe that jailer and that jailer’s daughter ” 

“ You owe them your safety and your freedom. Oh, 
Robert, I know, I know what you mean. But what care 
I what the world may think by-and-bye, or to-morrow, or 
to-day ? My conscience is clear.” 

“ Your father ” I persisted. 

She nodded. “ Yes, yes, you speak truth, alas ! And 
yet you must be freed. And ” — here she got to her feet, 
and with hashing eyes spoke out — “ and you shall be set 
free. Let come what will, I owe my first duty to you, 
though all the world chatter; and I will not stir from 
that. As soon as I can make it possible, you shall escape.” 

“ You shall have the right to set me free,” said I, “ if 
I must go to your father’s house. And if I do not go 
there, but out to my own country, you shall still have 
the right before all the world to follow, or to wait till I 
come to fetch you.” 

“ I do not understand you, Robert,” said she. “ I do 
not ” Here she broke off, looking, looking at me wist- 

fully, and trembling a little. 


UPON THE RAMPARTS. 


247 


Then I stooped and whispered softly in her ear. She 
gave a little cry, and drew back from me ; yet instantly 
her hand came out and caught my arm. 

“ Robert, Robert ! I can not, I dare not ! ” she cried 
softly. “ No, no, it may not be,” she added in a whisper 
of fear. 

I went to the alcove, drew back the curtain, and asked 
Mr. Wainfleet to step forth. 

“ Sir,” said I, picking up my Prayer Book and putting 
it in his hands, “ I beg you to marry this lady and my- 
self.” 

He paused, dazed. “Marry you — here — now?” he 
asked shakingly. 

“ Before ten minutes go round, this lady must be my 
wife,” said I. 

“ Mademoiselle Duvarney, you ” he began. 

“ Be pleased, dear sir, to open the book at ‘ Wilt thou 
have^ ” said I. “ The lady is a Catholic ; she has not 
the consent of her people ; but when she is my wife, 
made so by you, whose consent need we ask ? Can you 
not tie us fast enough, a man and woman of sense suf- 
ficient, but you must pause here? Is the knot you tie 
safe against picking and stealing ? ” 

I had touched his vanity and his ecclesiasticism. 
“ Married by me,” he replied, “ once chaplain to the 
Bishop of London, you have a knot that no sword can 
cut. I am in full orders. My parish is in Boston itself.” 

“ You will hand a certificate to my wife to-morrow, 
and you will uphold this marriage against all gossip ? ” 
asked I. 

“Against all France and all England,” he answered, 
roused now. 

“ Then come,” I urged. 

“ But I must have a witness,” he interposed, opening 
the book. 


248 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


“ You shall have one in due time,” said I. “ Go on. 
When the marriage is performed, and at the point where 
you shall proclaim us man and wife, I will have a 
witness.” 

I turned to Alixe, and found her pale and troubled. 
“ Oh, Robert, Robert ! ” she cried, “ it cannot be. Now, 
now I am afraid, for the first time in my life, dear, the 
first time ! ” 

“ Dearest lass in the world,” I said, “ it must be. I 
shall not go to your father’s. To-morrow night I make 
my great stroke for freedom, and when I am free I shall 
return to fetch my wife.” 

“ You will try to escape from here to-morrow ? ” she 
asked, her face fiushing finely. 

“ I will escape or die,” I answered ; “ but I shall not 
think of death. Come — come and say with me that we 
shall part no more — in spirit no more ; that, whatever 
comes, you and I have fulfilled our great hope, though 
under the shadow of the sword.” 

At that she put her hand in mine with pride and 
sweetness, and said, “ I am ready, Robert. I give my 
heart, my life, and my honour to you — forever.” 

Then, with simplicity and solemnity she turned to the 
clergyman : “ Sir, my honour is also in your hands. If 
you have mother or sister, or true care of souls upon you, 
I pray you, in the future act as becomes good men.” 

“ Mademoiselle,” he said earnestly, “ I am risking my 
freedom, maybe my life, in this ; do you think ” 

Here she took his hand and pressed it. “Ah, I 
ask your pardon. I am of a different faith from you, 
and I have known how men forget when they should 
remember.” She smiled at him so perfectly that he 
drew himself up with pride. 

“Make haste, sir,” said I. “Jailers are curious 
folk.” 


UPON THE RAMPARTS. 


249 


The room was not yet lighted, the evening shadows 
were creeping in, and up out of the town came the ring- 
ing of the vesper bell from the church of the Recollets. 
For a moment there was stillness in the room and all 
around us, and then the chaplain began in a low voice : 

“ I require and charge you both ” and bo on. In a 

few moments I had made the great vow, and had put on 
Alixe’s finger a ring which the clergyman drew from his 
own hand. Then we knelt down, and I know we both 
prayed most fervently with the good man that we might 
“ ever remain in perfect love and perfect peace together.” 

Rising, he paused, and I went to the door and 
knocked upon it. It was opened by Gabord. “ Come in' 
Gabord,” said I. “ There is a thing that you must hear.” 

He stepped back and got a light, and then entered, 
holding it up and shutting the door. A strange look 
came upon his face when he saw the chaplain, and dismay 
followed when, stepping beside Alixe, I took her hand, 
and Mr. Wainfleet declared us man and wife. He stood 
like one dumbfounded, and he did not stir, as Alixe, 
turning to me, let me kiss her on the lips, and then 
went to the crucifix on the wall and embraced the feet of 
it, and stood for a moment praying. NTor did he move 
or make a sign till she came back and stood beside me. 

“ A pretty scene ! ” he burst forth then with anger. 
“ But, by God ! no marriage is it ! ” 

Alixe’s hand tightened on my arm, and she drew 
close to me. 

“A marriage that will stand at Judgment Day, Ga- 
bord,” said I. 

“ But not in France or here. ’Tis mating wild, with 
end of doom.” 

“ It is a marriage our great Archbishop at Lambeth 
Palace will uphold against a hundred popes and kings,” 
said the chaplain with importance. 


250 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


“ You are no priest, but holy peddler ! ” cried Gabord 
roughly. “ This is not mating as Christians, and fires of 
hell shall burn — aho ! I will see you all go down, and 
hand of mine shall not be lifted for you ! ” 

He puffed out his cheeks, and his great eyes rolled 
like fire- wheels. 

“ You are a witness to this ceremony,” said the chap- 
lain. “ And you shall answer to your God, but you must 
speak the truth for this man and wife.” 

“ Man and wife ? ” laughed Gabord wildly. “ May I 
die and be damned to ” 

Like a flash Alixe was beside him, and put to his lips 
swiftly the little wooden cross that Mathilde had given 
her. 

“ Gabord, Gabord,” she said in a sad voice, “ when 
you may come to die, a girl’s prayers will be waiting at 
God’s feet for you.” 

He stopped, and stared at her. Her hand lay on his 
arm, and she continued : “No night gives me sleep, Ga- 
bord, but I pray for the jailer who has been kind to an 
ill-treated gentleman.” 

“A juggling gentleman, that cheats Gabord before 
his eyes, and smuggles in mongrel priest!” he blustered. 

I waved my hand at the chaplain, or I think he would 
have put his Prayer Book to rougher use than was its 
wont, and I was about to answer, but Alixe spoke in- 
stead, and to greater purpose than I could have done. 
Her whole mood changed, her face grew still and proud, 
her eyes flashed bravely. 

“ Gabord,” she said, “ vanity speaks in you there, not 
honesty. No gentleman here is a juggler. No kindness 
you may have done warrants insolence. You have the 
power to bring great misery on us, and you may have the 
will, but, by God’s help, both my husband and myself 
shall be delivered from cruel hands. At any moment I 


UPON THE RAMPARTS. 


251 


may stand alone in the world, friends, people, the Church, 
and all the land against me : if you desire to hasten that 
time, to bring me to disaster, because you would injure 
my husband ” — how sweet the name sounded on her lips ! 
— “ then act, but do not insult us. But no, no,” she broke 
off softly, “ you spoke in temper, you meant it not, you 
were but vexed with us for the moment. Dear Gabord,” 
she added, “ did we not know that if we had asked you 
first, you would have refused us ? You care so much for 
me, you would have feared my linking life and fate with 
one ” 

“ With one the death- man has in hand, to pay price 
for wicked deed,” he interrupted. 

“ With one innocent of all dishonour, a gentleman 
wronged every way. Gabord, you know it is so, for you 
have guarded him and fought with him, and you are an 
honourable gentleman,” she added gently. 

“ No gentleman I,” he burst forth, “ but jailer base, 
and soldier born upon a truss of hay. But honour is an 
apple any man may eat since Adam walked in garden. 

. . . ’Tis honest foe, here,” he continued magnanimously, 
and nodded towards me. 

“We would have told you all,” she said, “but how 
dare we involve you, or how dare we tempt you, or how 
dare we risk your refusal ? It was love and truth drove 
us to this ; and God will bless this mating as the birds 
mate, even as He gives honour to Gabord who was born 
upon a truss of hay.” 

“ Poom ! ” said Gabord, puffing out his cheeks, and 
smiling on her with a look half sour, and yet with a dog- 
like fondness, “ Gabord’s mouth is shut till ’s head is off, 
and then to tell the tale to Twelve Apostles ! ” 

Through his wayward, illusive speech we found his 
meaning. He would keep faith with us, and be best proof 
of this marriage, at risk of his head even. 


252 the SEAT^ op the MIGHTY. 

As we spoke, the chaplain was writing in the blank 
fore-pages of the Prayer Book. Presently he said to me, 
handing me the pen, which he had picked from a table, 
“ Inscribe your names here. It is a rough record of the 
ceremony, but it will suffice before all men, when to-mor- 
row I have given Mistress Moray another record.” 

We wrote our names, and then the pen was handed to 
Gabord. He took it, and at last, with many flourishes 
and ahos^ and by dint of puffings and rolling eyes, he 
wrote his name so large that it filled as much space as the 
other names and all the writing, and was indeed like a 
huge indorsement across the record. 

When this was done, Alixe held out her hand to him. 
“ Will you kiss me, Gabord? ” she said. 

The great soldier was all taken back. He flushed like 
a schoolboy, yet a big humour and pride looked out of his 
eyes. 

“ I owe you for the sables, too,” she said. “ But kiss 
me — not on my ears, as the Russian count kissed Gabord, 
but on my cheek.” 

This won him to our cause utterly, and I never think 
of Gabord, as I saw him last in the sway and carnage of 
battle, fighting with wild uproar and covered with wounds, 
but the memory of that moment, when he kissed my 
young wife, comes back to me. 

At that he turned to leave. “ I’ll hold the door for 
ten minutes,” he added ; and bowed to the chaplain, who 
blessed us then with tears in his eyes, and smiled a little 
to my thanks and praises and purse of gold, and to Alixe’s 
gratitude. With lifting chin — good honest gentleman, 
who afterwards proved his fidelity and truth — he said that 
he would die to uphold this sacred ceremony. And so he 
made a little speech, as if he had a pulpit round him, and 
he wound up with a benediction which sent my dear girl 
to tears and soft trembling : 


LA JONGLEUSE. 


253 


“ The Lord bless you and keep you : the Lord make his 
face to shine upon you ; the Lord lift up his countenance 
upon you^ and give you peace^ now and for evermoreT 

A moment afterwards the door closed, and for ten 
minutes I looked into my dear wife’s face, and told her 
my plans for escape. When Gabord opened the door upon 
us, we had passed through years of understanding and re- 
solve. Our parting was brave — a bravery on her side that 
I do not think any other woman could match. She was 
quivering with the new life come upon her, yet she was 
self-controlled ; she moved as in a dream, yet I knew her 
mind was alert, vigilant, and strong she was aching with 
thought of this separation, with the peril that faced us 
both, yet she carried a quiet joy in her face, a tranquil 
gravity of bearing. 

“ Whom God hath joined ” said I gravely at the 

last. 

“ Let no man put asunder,” she answered softly and 
solemnly. 

“ Aho ! ” said Gabord, and turned his head away. 

Then the door shut upon me, and, though I am no 
Catholic, I have no shame in saying that I kissed the feet 
on the crucifix which her lips had blessed. 


XXL 

LA JONGLEUSE. 

At nine o’clock I was waiting by the window, and 
even as a bugle sounded “ lights out ” in the barracks 
and change of guard, I let the string down. Mr. Stevens 
shot round the corner of the chdteau, just as the depart- 
ing sentinel disappeared, attached a bundle to the string, 
and I drew it up. 


254 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


“ Is all well ? ” I called softly down, 

“ All well,” said Mr. Stevens, and, hugging the wall of 
the chateau, he sped away. In another moment a new 
sentinel began pacing up and down, and I shut the win- 
dow and untied my bundle. All that I had asked for was 
there. I hid the things away in the alcove and went to 
bed at once, for I knew that I should have no sleep on 
the following night. 

I did not leave my bed till the morning was well ad- 
vanced. Once or twice during the day I brought my 
guards in with fear on their faces, the large fat man more 
distorted than his fellow, by the lamentable sounds I 
made with my willow toys. They crossed themselves again 
and again, and I myself appeared devout and troubled. 
When we walked abroad during the afternoon, I chose to 
loiter by the river rather than walk, for I wished to con- 
serve my strength, which was now vastly increased, though, 
to mislead my watchers and the authorities, I assumed the 
delicacy of an invalid, and appeared unfit for any enter- 
prise — no hard task, for I was still very thin and worn. 

So I sat upon a favourite seat on the cliff, set against 
a solitary tree, fixed in the rocks. I gazed long on the 
river, and my guards, stoutly armed, stood near, watching 
me, and talking in low tones. Eager to hear their gossip 
I appeared to sleep. They came nearer, and, facing me, 
sat upon a large stone, and gossipped freely concerning 
the strange sounds heard in my room at the chateau. 

“ See you, my Bamboir,” said the lean to the fat sol- 
dier, “ the British captain, he is to be carried off in burn- 
ing fiames by that La Jongleuse. We shall come in one 
morning, find a smell of sulphur only, and a circle of 
red on the fioor where the imps danced before La Jon- 
gleuse said to them, ‘Up with him, darlings, and 
away ! ’ ” 

At this Bamboir shook his head, and answered, “ To- 


LA JONGLEUSE. 


256 


morrow I’ll go to the Governor and tell him what’s com- 
ing. My wife, she falls upon my neck this morning. ‘ Ar- 
gose,’ she says, ‘ ’twill need the bishop and his college to 
drive La Jongleuse out of the grand chateau.’” 

“No less,” replied the other. “ A deacon and sacred 
palm and sprinkle of holy water would do for a cottage, 
or even for a little manor house, with twelve candles 
burning, and a hymn to the Virgin. But in a king’s 
house ” 

“ It’s not the King’s house.” 

“But yes, it is the King’s house, though his Most 
Christian Majesty lives in France. The Marquis de Vau- 
dreuil stands for the King, and we are sentinels in the 
King’s house. But, my faith, I’d rather be fighting against 
Frederick, the Prussian boar, than watching this mad Eng- 
lishman.” 

“ But see you, my brother, that Englishman’s a devil. 
Else how has he not been hanged long ago ? He has vile 
arts to blind all, or he’d not be sitting there. It is well 
known that M’sieu’ Doltaire, even the King’s son— his 
mother worked in the fields like your Nanette, Bam^ 
boir ” 

“ Or your LablancK^ my friend. She has hard hands, 
with warts, and red knuckles therefrom ” 

“ Or your Nanette, Bamboir, with nose that blisters in 
the summer, as she goes swingeing flax, and swelling feet 
that sweat in sabots, and chin thrust out from carrying 
pails upon her head ” 

“ Ay, like Nanette and like Lablanche, this peasant 
mother of M’sieu’ Doltaire, and maybe no such firm 
breasts like Nanette ” 

“Nor such an eye as has Lablanche. Well, M’sieu’ 
Doltaire, who could override them all, he could not kill 
this barbarian. And Gabord — you know well how they 
fought, and the black horse and his rider came and car- 


256 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


ried him away. Why, the young M’sieu’ Duvarney had 
him on his knees, the blade at his throat, and a sword 
flash out from the dark — they say it was the devil’s — and 
took him in the ribs and well-nigh killed him.” 

“ But what say you to Ma’m’selle Duvarney coming to 
him that day, and again yesterday with Gabord ? ” 

“ Well, well, who knows, Bamboir? This morning I 
say to Nanette, ‘ Why is’t, all in one moment, you send me 
to the devil, and pray Co meet me in Abraham’s bosom 
too?’ What think you she answer me? Why, this, 
my Bamboir : ‘ Why is’t Adam loved his wife and swore 
her down before the Lord also, all in one moment? ’ Why 
Ma’m’selle Duvarney does this or that is not for muddy 
brains like ours. It is some whimsy. They say that 
women are more curious about the devil than about St. 
Jean Baptiste. Perhaps she got of him a magic book.” 

“ No, no ! If he had the magic Petit Albert, he would 
have turned us into dogs long ago. But I do not like 
him. He is but thirty years, they say, and yet his hair is 
white as a pigeon’s wing. It is not natural. Nor did he 
ever, says Gabord, do aught but laugh at everything they 
did to him. The chains they put would not stay, and 
when he was set against the wall to be shot, the watches 
stopped — the minute of his shooting passed. Then M’sieu’ 
Doltaire come, and say a man that could do a trick like 
that should live to do another. And he did it, for M’sieu’ 
Doltaire is gone to the Bastile. Voyez, this Englishman 
is a damned heretic, and has the wicked arts.” 

“ But see, Bamboir, do you think he can cast spells ? ” 

“ What mean those sounds from his room ! ” 

“ So, so. Yet if he be a friend of the devil. La Jon- 

gleuse would not come for him, but ” 

Startled and excited, they grasped each other’s arms. 
“ But for us — for us ! ” 

“ It would be a work of God to send him to the devil,” 


LA JONGLEUSE, 


257 


said Bamboir in a loud whisper. “ He has given us trouble 
enough. Who can tell what conies next? Those damned 
noises in his room, eh — eh ? ” 

Then they whispered together, and presently I caught 
a fragment, by which I understood that, as we walked near 
the edge of the cliff, I should be pushed over, and they 
would make it appear that I had drowned myself. 

They talked in low tones again, but soon got louder, 
and presently I knew that they were speaking of La 
Jongleuse; and Bamboir — the fat Bamboir, who the 
surgeon had said would some day die of apoplexy — was 
rash enough to say that he had seen her. He described 
her accurately, with the spirit of the born raconteur : 

“ Hair so black as the feather in the Governor’s hat, 
and green eyes that flash Are, and a brown face with 
skin all scales. Oh, my saints of heaven, when she pass 
I hide my head, and I go cold like stone. She is all 
covered with long reeds and lilies about her head and 
shoulders, and blue-red sparks fly up at every step. 
Flames go round her, and she burns not her robe — not 
at all. And as she go I hear cries that make me sick, 
for it is, I said, some poor man in torture, and I think 
perhaps it is Jacques Villon, perhaps Jean Kivas, perhaps 
Angele Damgoche. But no, it is a young priest of St. 
Clair, for he is never seen again — never ! ” 

In my mind I commended this fat Bamboir as an ex- 
cellent story-teller, and thanked him for his true picture 
of La Jongleuse, whom, to my regret, I had never seen. 
I would not forget his stirring description, as he should 
see. I gave point to the tale by squeezing an inflated 
toy in my pocket, with my arm, while my hands remained 
folded in front of me ; and it was as good as a play to 
see the faces of these soldiers as they sprang to their feet, 
staring round in dismay. I myself seemed to wake with 
a start, and, rising to my feet, I asked what meant the 


258 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


noise and their amazement. We were in a spot where we 
could not easily be seen from any distance, and no one 
was in sight, nor were we to be remarked from the fort. 
They exchanged looks, as I started back towards the 
chdteau, walking very near the edge of the cliff. A 
spirit of bravado came on me, and I said musingly to 
them as we walked : 

“ It would be easy to throw you both over the cliff, 
but I love you too well. I have proved that by making 
toys for your children.” 

It was as cordial to me to watch their faces. They 
both drew away from the cliff, and grasped their fire- 
arms apprehensively. 

“ My God,” said Bamboir, “ those toys shall be burned 
to-night ! Alphonse has the smallpox and Susanne the 
croup — damned devil ! ” he added furiously, stepping 
forward to me with gun raised, “ I’ll ” 

I believe he would have shot me, but that I said 
quickly, “ If you did harm to me you’d come to the 
rope. The Governor would rather lose a hand than my 
life.” 

I pushed his musket down. “ Why should you fret ? 
I am leaving the chateau to-morrow for another prison. 
You fools, d’ye think I’d harm the children ? I know 
as little of the devil or La Jongleuse as do you. We’ll 
solve the witcheries of these sounds, you and I, to-night. 
If they come, we’ll say the Lord’s Prayer, and make the 
sacred gesture, and if it goes not, we’ll have a priest to 
drive out the whining spirit.” 

This quieted them, and I was glad of it, for they 
had looked bloodthirsty enough, and though I had a 
weapon on me, there was little use in seeking fighting or 
fiight till the auspicious moment. They were not satis- 
fied, however, and they watched me diligently as we came 
on to the chateau. 


LA JONGLEUSE. 259 

I could not bear that they should be frightened about 
their children, so I said : 

“ Make for me a sacred oath, and I will swear by it 
that those toys will do your children no harm.” 

I drew out the little wooden cross that Mathilde had 
given me, and held it up. They looked at me aston- 
ished. What should I, a heretic and a Protestant, do 
with this sacred emblem ? “ This never leaves me,” said 
I ; “it was a pious gift.” 

I raised the cross to my lips and kissed it. 

“ That’s well,” said Bamboir to his comrade. “ If 
otherwise, he’d have been struck down by the Avenging 
Angel.” 

We got back to the Chdteau without more talk, and 
I was locked in, while my guards retired. As soon as 
they had gone I got to work, for my great enterprise 
was at hand. 

At ten o’clock I was ready for the venture. When 
the critical moment came, I was so arrayed that my 
dearest friend would not have known me. My object 
was to come out upon my guards as La Jongleuse, and, in 
the fright and confusion which should follow, make my 
escape through the corridors and to the entrance doors, 
past the sentinels, and so on out. It may be seen now 
why I got the woman’s garb, the sheet, the horsehair, the 
phosphorus, the reeds, and ^uch things ; why I secured 
the knife and pistol may be conned likewise. Upon the 
lid of a small stove in the room I placed my saltpetre, 
and I rubbed the horsehair on my head with phosphorus, 
also on my hands, and face, and feet, and on many ob- 
jects in the room. The knife and pistol were at my hand, 
and as soon as the clock had struck ten I set my toys 
wailing. 

Then I knocked upon the door with solemn taps, 
hurried back to the stove, and waited for the door to 


m 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


open before I applied the match. I heard a fumbling 
at the lock, then the door was thrown wide open. All 
was darkness in the hall without, save for a spluttering 
candle which Bamboir held over his head, as he and his 
fellow, deadly pale, peered into the chamber. Suddenly 
they gave a cry, for I threw the sheet from my face and 
shoulders, and to their excited imagination La Jongleuse 
stood before them, all in flames. As I started down on 
them, the coloured fire flew up, making the room all blue 
and scarlet for a moment, in which I must have looked 
devilish indeed, with staring eyes and outstretched chalky 
hands, and wailing cries coming from my robe. 

I moved swiftly, and Bamboir, without a cry, dropped 
like a log (poor fellow, he never rose again ! the apoplexy 
which the surgeon promised had come), his comrade gave 
a cry, and sank in a heap in a corner, mumbling a 
prayer and making the sign of the cross, his face stark 
with terror. 

I passed him, came along the corridor and down one 
staircase, without seeing any one ; then two soldiers ap- 
peared in the half-lighted hallway. Presently a door 
opened behind me, and some one came out. By now the 
phosphorus light had diminished a little, but still I was 
a villainous picture, for in one hand I held a small cup, 
from which suddenly sprang red and blue fires. The 
men fell back, and I sailed past them, but I had not 
gone far down the lower staircase when a shot rang 
after me and a bullet passed by my head. Now I came 
rapidly to the outer door, where two more sentinels 
stood. They shrank back, and suddenly one threw 
down his musket and ran ; the other, terrified, stood 
stock-still. I passed him, opened the door, and came out 
upon the Intendant, who was just alighting from his 
carriage. 

The horses sprang away, frightened at sight of me, 



Jja .longleuse stood before them, all iu flames, 





4 


LA JONGLEUSE. 


261 


and nearly threw Bigot to the ground. I tossed the tin 
cup with its chemical fires full in his face, as he made a 
dash for me. He called out, and drew his sword. I 
wished not to fight, and I sprang aside ; but he made a 
pass at me, and I drew my pistol and was about to fire, 
when another shot came from the hallway and struck him. 
He fell almost at my feet, and I dashed away into the 
darkness. Fifty feet ahead I cast one glance back and 
saw Monsieur Oournal standing in the doorway. I was 
sure that his second shot had not been meant for me, but 
for the Intendant — wild attempt at a revenge long de- 
layed, for the worst of wrongs. 

I ran on, and presently came full upon five soldiers, 
two of whom drew their pistols, fired, and missed. Their 
comrades ran away howling. They barred my path, and 
now I fired too, and brought one down ; then came a 
shot from behind them, and another fell. The last one 
took to his heels, and a moment later I had my hand in 
that of Mr. Stevens. It was he who had fired the oppor- 
tune shot that rid me of one foe. We came quickly along 
the river brink, and, skirting the citadel, got clear of it 
without discovery, though we could see soldiers hurrying 
past, roused by the firing at the chdteau. 

In about half an hour of steady running, with a 
few bad stumbles and falls, we reached the old windmill 
above the Anse du Foulon at Sillery, and came plump 
upon our waiting comrades. I had stripped myself of my 
disguise, and rubbed the phosphorus from my person 
as we came along, but enough remained to make me an 
uncanny figure. It had been kept secret from these peo- 
ple that I was to go with them, and they sullenly kept 
their muskets raised ; but when Mr. Stevens told them 
who I was they were agreeably surprised. I at once took 
command of the enterprise, saying firmly at the same time 
that I would shoot the first man who disobeyed my orders. 

18 


262 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


I was sure that I could bring them to safety, but my will 
must be law. They took my terms like men, and swore 
to stand by me. 


XXII. 

THE LORD OF KAMARASKA. 

We were five altogether — Mr. Stevens, Clark, the two 
Boston soldiers, and myself ; and presently we came down 
the steep passage in the cliff to where our craft lay, se- 
cured by my dear wife — a birch canoe, well laden with 
necessaries. Our craft was none too large for our party, 
but she must do ; and safely in, we pushed out upon the 
current, which was in our favour, for the tide was going 
out. My object was to cross the river softly, skirt the 
Levis shore, pass the Isle of Orleans, and so steal down the 
river. There was excitement in the town, as we could tell 
from the lights hashing along the shore, and boats soon 
began to patrol the banks, going swiftly up and down, and 
extending a line round to the St. Charles River towards 
Beauport. 

It was well for us the night was dark, else we had 
never run that gantlet. But we were lucky enough, by hard 
paddling, to get past the town on the Levis side. Never 
were better boatmen. The paddles dropped with agreeable 
precision, and no boatswain’s rattan was needed to keep 
my fellows to their task. I, whose sight was long trained 
to darkness, could see a great distance round, us, and. so 
could prevent a trap, though once or twice we let our 
canoe drift with the tide, lest our paddles should be heard. 
I could not paddle long, I had so little strength. After 
the Isle of Orleans was passed I drew a breath of re- 
lief, and played the part of captain and boatswain merely. 

Yet when I looked back at the town on those strong 


THE LORD OF KAMARASKA. 


263 


heights, and saw the bonfires burn to warn the settlers of 
our escape, saw the lights sparkling in many homes, and 
even fancied I could make out the light shining in my 
dear wife’s window, I had a strange feeling of loneliness. 
There, in the shadow of my prison walls, was the dearest 
thing on earth to me. Ought she not to be with me? 
She had begged to come, to share with me these dangers 
and hardships; but that I could not, would not grant. 
She would be safer with her people. As for us desperate 
men bent on escape, we must face hourly peril. 

Thank God, there was work to do. Hour after hour 
the swing and dip of the paddles went on. No one 
showed weariness, and when dawn broke slow and soft 
over the eastern hills I motioned my good boatmen to- 
wards the shore, and we landed safely. Lifting our frig- 
ate up, we carried her into a thicket, there to rest with us 
till night, when we would sally forth again into the 
friendly darkness. We were in no distress all that day, 
for the weather was fine, and we had enough to eat ; and 
in this case were we for ten days and nights, though in- 
deed some of the nights were dreary and very cold, for it 
was yet but the beginning of May. 

It might thus seem that we were leaving danger well 
behind, after having travelled so many heavy leagues, but 
it was yet several hundred miles to Louisburg, our destina- 
tion, and we had escaped only immediate danger. We 
passed Isle aux Coudres and the Isles of Kamaraska, and 
now we ventured by day to ramble the woods in search of 
game, which was most plentiful. In this good outdoor 
life my health came slowly back, and I should soon be 
able to bear equal tasks with any of my comrades. Never 
man led better friends, though I have seen adventurous 
service near and far since that time. Even the genial 
ruffian Clark was amenable, and took sharp reprimand 
without revolt. 


2G4: 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


On the eleventh night, after our escape our first real 
trial came. We were keeping the middle of the great 
river, as safest from detection, and when the tide was with 
us we could thus move more rapidly. We had had a con- 
stant favouring breeze, but now suddenly, though we were 
running with the tide, the wind turned easterly and blew 
up the river against the ebb. Soon it became a gale, to 
which was added snow and sleet, and a rough, choppy sea 
followed. 

I saw it would be no easy task to fetch our craft to the 
land. The waves broke in upon us, and presently, while 
half of us were paddling with laboured and desperate 
stroke, the other half were bailing. Lifted on a crest, our 
canoe, heavily laden, dropped at both ends ; and again, 
sinking into the hollows between the short, brutal waves, 
her gunwales yielded outward, and her waist gaped in a 
dismal way. We looked to see her with a broken back at 
any moment. To add to our ill fortune, a violent cur- 
rent set in from the shore, and it was vain to attempt a 
landing. Spirits and bodies flagged, and it needed all my 
cheerfulness to keep my fellows to their tasks. 

At last, the ebb of tide being almost spent, the waves 
began to fall, the wind shifted a little to the northward, 
and a piercing cold instantly froze our drenched clothes 
on our backs. But with the current changed there was a 
good chance of reaching the shore. As daylight came we 
passed into a little sheltered cove, and sank with exhaus- 
tion on the shore. Our frozen clothes rattled like tin, 
and we could scarce lift a leg. But we gathered a fine 
heap of wood, flint and steel were ready, and the tinder 
was sought ; which, when found, was soaking. Not a 
dry stitch or stick could we find anywhere, till at last, 
within a leather belt, Mr. Stevens found a handkerchief, 
which was, indeed, as he told me afterwards, the gift and 
pledge of a lady to him ; and his returning to her with- 


THE LORD OF KAMARASKA. 


265 


out it nearly lost him another and better gift and pledge, 
for this went to light our fire. We had had enough 
danger and work in one night to give us relish for some 
days of rest, and we piously took them. 

The evening of the second day we set off again and 
had a good night’s run, and in the dawn, spying a snug 
little bay, we stood in and went ashore. I sent my two 
Provincials foraging with their guns, and we who re- 
mained set about to fix our camp for the day and pre- 
pare breakfast. A few minutes only passed, and my 
hunters came running back with rueful faces to say 
they had seen two Indians near, armed with muskets and 
knives. My plans were made at once. We needed their 
muskets, and the Indians must pay the price of their 
presence here, for our safety should be had at any cost. 

I urged my men to utter no word at all, for none but 
Clark could speak French, and he but poorly. For my- 
self, my accent would pass, after these six years of prac- 
tice. We came to a little river, beyond which we could 
observe the Indians standing on guard. We could only 
cross by wading, which we did ; but one of my Provin- 
cials came down, wetting his musket and himself thor- 
oughly. Reaching the shore, we marched together, I 
singing the refrain of an old French song as we went, 
so attracting the attention of the Indians. The better to 
deceive, we all were now dressed in the costume of the 
French peasant — I had taken pains to have Mr. Stevens 
secure these for us before starting ; a pair of homespun 
trousers, a coarse brown jacket, with thrums like waving 
tassels, a silk handkerchief about the neck, and a strong, 
thick worsted wig on the head ; no smart toupet, nor 
buckle ; nor combed, nor powdered ; and all crowned by 
a dull black cap. I myself was, as became my purpose, 
most like a small captain of militia, doing wood service, 
in the braver costume of the coureur de hois. 


266 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


I signalled to the Indians, and, coming near, addressed 
them in French. They were deceived, and presently, 
abreast of them, in the midst of apparent ceremony, their 
firelocks were seized, and Mr. Stevens and Clark had them 
safe. I told them we must be satisfied as to who they 
were, for English prisoners escaped from Quebec were 
abroad, and no man could go unchallenged. They must 
at once lead me to their camp. So they did, and at 
their bark wigwam they said they had seen no English- 
men. They were guardians of the fire; that is, it was 
their duty to light a fire on the shore when a hostile fleet 
should appear and from another point farther up, other 
guardians, seeing, would do the same, until beacons would 
be shining even to Quebec, three hundred leagues away. 

While I was questioning them, Clark rifled the wig- 
wam; and presently, the excitable fellow, finding some 
excellent stores of skins, tea, maple sugar, coffee, and other 
things, broke out into English expletives. Instantly the 
Indians saw they had been trapped, and he whom Mr. 
Stevens held made a great spring from him, caught up a 
gun, and gave a wild yell which echoed far and near. 
Mr. Stevens, with great rapidity, levelled his pistol and 
shot him in the heart, while I, in a close struggle with 
my captive, was glad — for I was not yet strong — that 
Clark finished my assailant : and so both lay there dead, 
two foes less of our King. 

Not far from where we stood was a pool of water, 
and we sank the bodies there ; but I did not know till 
long afterwards that Clark, with a barbarous and dis- 
gusting spirit, carried away their scalps to sell them in 
New York, where they would bring, as he confided to 
one of the Provincials, twelve pounds each. Before we 
left, we shot a poor howling dog that mourned for his 
masters, and sank him also in the dark pool. 

We had but got back to our camp, when, looking out, 


THE LORD OF KAMARASKA. 


267 


we saw a well- manned four-oared boat making for the 
shore. My men were in dismay until I told them that, 
having begun the game of war, I would carry it on to 
the ripe end. This boat and all therein should be mine. 
Safely hidden, we watched the rowers draw in to shore 
with brisk strokes, singing a quaint farewell song of the 
voyageurs, called La Pauvre Mere, of which the refrain is : 

“ And his mother says, ‘ My dear, 

For your absence I shall grieve ; 

Come you home within the year.’ ” 

They had evidently been upon a long journey, and by 
their toiling we could see their boat was deep loaded ; but 
they drove on, like a horse that, at the close of day, sees 
ahead the inn where he is to bait and refresh, and, rous- 
ing to the spur, comes cheerily home. The figure of a 
reverend old man was in the stern, and he sent them in 
to shore with brisk words. Bump came the big shallop 
on the beach, and at that moment I ordered my men to 
fire, but to aim wide, for I had another end in view than 
killing. 

We were exactly matched as to numbers, so that a 
fight would have been fair enough, but I hoped for peace- 
ful conquest. As we fired I stepped out of the thicket, 
and behind me could be seen the barrels of our threaten- 
ing muskets. The old gentleman stood up while his men 
cried for quarter. He waved them down with an impa- 
tient gesture, and stepped out on the beach. Then I 
recognized him. It was the Chevalier de la Darante. I 
stepped towards him, my sword drawn. 

“ Monsieur the Chevalier de la Darante, you are my 
prisoner,” said I. 

He started, then recognized me. “ How, by the blood 
of man ! now, by the blood of man ! ” he said, and paused, 
dumfounded. 


268 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


“ You forget me, monsieur ? ” asked I. 

“ Forget you, monsieur ? ” said he. “ As soon forv 
get the devil at mass ! But I thought you dead by 
now, and ” 

“ If you are disappointed,” said I, “ there is a way ” ; 
and I waved towards his men, then to Mr. Stevens and 
my own ambushed fellows. 

He smiled an acid smile, and took a pinch of snuff. 
“ It is not so fiery-edged as that,” he answered ; “ I can 
endure it.” 

“ You shall have time, too, for reverie,” answered I. 

He looked puzzled. “ What is’t you wish ?” he asked. 

“ Y our surrender first,” said I, “ and then your com- 
pany at breakfast.” 

“ The latter has meaning and compliment,” he re- 
sponded, “ the former is beyond me. What would you 
do with me ? ” 

“ Detain you and your shallop for the services of my 
master, the King of England, soon to he the master of 
your master, if the signs are right.” 

“ All signs fail with the blind, monsieur.” 

“Monsieur,” he added, with great, almost too great 
dignity, “I am of the family of the Due de Mirepoix. 
The whole Kamaraska Isles are mine, and the best gen- 
tlemen in this province do me vassalage. I make war on 
none, I have stepped aside from all affairs of state, I am a 
simple gentleman. I have been a great way down this 
river, at large expense and toil, to purchase wheat, for all 
the corn of these counties above goes to Quebec to store 
the King’s magazine, the adored La Friponne. I know 
not your purposes, but I trust you will not push your ad- 
vantage ” — he waved towards our muskets — “ against a 
private gentleman.” 

“You forget, Chevalier,” said I, “that you gave verr 
diet for my death.” 


THE LORD OF KAMARASKA. 269 

“ Upon the evidence,” he replied. “ And I have no 
doubt you deserve hanging a thousand times.” 

I almost loved him for his boldness. I remembered 
also that he had no wish to be one of my judges, and that 
he spoke for me in the presence of the Governor. But he 
was not the man to make a point of that. 

“ Chevalier,” said I, “ I have been foully used in yonder 
town ; by the fortune of war you shall help me to com- 
pensation. We have come a long, hard journey; we are 
all much overworked ; we need rest, a better boat, and 
good sailors. You and your men, Chevalier, shall row us 
to Louisburg. When we are attacked, you shall be in the 
van ; when we are at peace, you shall industriously serve 
under King George’s flag. Now will you give up your 
men, and join me at breakfast?” 

For a moment the excellent gentleman was mute, and 
my heart almost fell before his venerable white hair and 
his proud bearing ; but something a little overdone in his 
pride, a little ludicrous in the situation, set me smiling ; 
there came hack on me the remembrance of all I had suf- 
fered, and I let no sentiment stand between me and my 
purposes. 

“ I am the Chevalier de la ” he began. 

“ If you were King Louis himself, and every man in 
your boat a peer of his realm, you should row a British 
subject now,” said I ; “ or, if you choose, you shall have 
flghting instead.” I meant there should be nothing un- 
certain in my words. 

“ I surrender,” said he ; “ and if you are bent on sham- 
ing me, let us have it over soon.” 

“ You shall have better treatment than I had in Que- 
bec,” answered I. 

A moment afterwards his men were duly surrendered, 
disarmed, and guarded, and the Chevalier breakfasted 
with me, now and again asking me news of Quebec. He 


270 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


was amazed to hear that Bigot had been shot, and dis- 
tressed that I could not say whether fatally or not. 

I fixed on a new plan. We would now proceed by 
day as well as by night, for the shallop could not leave the 
river, and, besides, I did not care to trust my prisoners on 
shore. I threw from the shallop into the stream enough 
wheat to lighten her, and now, well stored and trimmed, 
we pushed away upon our course, the Chevalier and his 
men rowing, while my men rested and tended the sail, 
which was now set. I was much loath to cut our good 
canoe adrift, but she stopped the shallop’s way, and she 
was left behind. 

After a time our prisoners were in part relieved, and 
I made the Chevalier rest also, for he had taken his task 
in good part, and had ordered his men to submit cheer- 
fully. In the late afternoon, after an excellent journey, 
we saw a high and shaggy point of land, far ahead, which 
shut off our view. I was anxious to see beyond it, for 
ships of war might appear at any moment. A good 
breeze brought up this land, and when we were abreast of 
it a lofty frigate was disclosed to view — a convoy (so the 
Chevalier said) to a fleet of transports which that morn- 
ing had gone up the river. I resolved instantly, since 
fight was useless, to make a run for it. Seating myself at 
the tiller, I declared solemnly that I would shoot the first 
man who dared to stop the shallop’s way, to make sign, or 
speak a word. So, as the frigate stood across the river, I 
had all sail set, roused the men at the oars, and we came 
running by her stern. Our prisoners were keen enough 
to get past in safety, for they were between two fires, and 
the excellent Chevalier was as alert and laborious as the 
rest. They signalled us from the frigate by a shot to 
bring to, but we came on gallantly. Another shot whizzed 
by at a distance, but we did not change our course, and 
then balls came flying over our heads, dropping round us, 


THE LORD OF KAMARASKA. 271 

cooling their hot protests in the river. But none struck 
us, and presently all fell short. 

We durst not slacken pace that night, and by morn- 
ing, much exhausted, we deemed ourselves safe, and 
rested for a while, making a hearty breakfast, though a 
sombre shadow had settled on the face of the good Cheva- 
lier. Once more he ventured to protest, but I told him 
my resolution was fixed, and that I would, at all costs, 
secure escape from my six years’ misery. He must abide 
the fortune of this war. 

For several days we fared on, without more mishap. 
At last, one morning, as we hugged the shore, I saw a 
large boat lying on the beach. On landing we found the 
boat of excellent size and made for swift going, and pres- 
ently Clark discovered the oars. Then I turned to the 
Chevalier, who was watching me curiously, yet hiding 
anxiety, for he had upheld his dignity with some accent 
since he had come into my service : 

“ Chevalier,” said I, “ you shall find me more humane 
than my persecutors at Quebec. I will not hinder your 
going, if you will engage on your honour — as would, for 
instance, the Due de Mirepoix ! ” — he bowed to my veiled 
irony — “ that you will not divulge what brought you back 
thus far, till you shall reach your Kamaraska Isles ; and 
you must undertake the same for your fellows here.” 

He consented, and I admired the fine, vain old man, 
and lamented that I had had to use him so. 

“ Then,” said I, “ you may depart with your shallop. 
Your mast and sail, however, must be ours ; and for these 
I will pay. I will also pay for the wheat which was 
thrown into the river, and you shall have a share of our 
provisions, got from the Indians.” 

“Monsieur,” said he, “I shall remember with pride 
that I have dealt with so fair a foe. I can not regret the 
pleasure of your acquaintance, even at the price. And 


272 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


see, monsieur, I do not think you the criminal they have 
made you out, and so I will tell a lady ” 

I raised my hand at him, for I saw that he knew 
something, and Mr. Stevens was near us at the time. 

“ Chevalier,” said I, drawing him aside, “ if, as you 
say, I have used you honourably, then, if trouble falls 
upon my wife before I see her again, I beg you to stand 
her friend. In the sad fortunes of war and hate of me, 
she may need a friend — even against her own people, on 
her own hearthstone.” 

I never saw a man so amazed. To his rapid question- 
ings I gave the one reply, that Alixe was my wife. His 
lip trembled. 

“ Poor child ! poor child ! ” said he ; “ they will put 
her in a nunnery. You did wrong, monsieur.” 

“ Chevalier,” said I, “ did you ever love a woman ?” 

He made a motion of the hand, as if I had touched 
upon a tender point, and said, “ So young ! so young ! ” 

“ But you will stand by her,” I urged, “ by the memory 
of some good woman you have known ! ” 

He put out his hand again with a chafing sort of mo- 
tion. “ There, there,” said he, “ the poor child shall never 
want a friend. If I can help it, she shall not be made the 
victim of the Church or of the State, nor yet of family 
pride — good God, no ! ” 

Presently we parted, and soon we lost our grateful foes 
in the distance. All night we jogged along with easy sail, 
but just at dawn, in a sudden opening of the land, we saw 
a sloop at anchor near a wooded point, her pennant flying. 
We pushed along, unheeding her fiery signal to bring to ; 
and declining, she let fly a swivel loaded with grape, and 
again another, riddling our sail ; but we were travelling 
with wind and tide, and we soon left the indignant patrol 
behind. Towards evening came a freshening wind and a 
cobbling sea, and I thought it best to make for shore. So, 


THE LORD OP KAMARASKA. 


2Y3 


easing the sail, we brought our shallop before the wind. 
It was very dark, and there was a heavy surf running ; 
but we had to take our fortune as it came, and we let 
drive for the unknown shore, for it was all alike to us. 
Presently, as we ran close in, our boat came hard upon a 
rock, which bulged her bows open. Taking what provis- 
ions we could, we left our poor craft upon the rocks, and 
fought our way to safety. 

We had little joy that night in thinking of our shallop 
breaking on the reefs, and we discussed the chances of 
crossing overland to Louisburg ; but we soon gave up that 
wild dream : this river was the only way. When daylight 
came, we found our boat, though badly wrecked, still held 
together. Now Clark rose to the great necessity, and said 
that he would patch her up to carry us on, or never lift a 
hammer more. With labour past reckoning we dragged 
her to shore and got her on. the stocks, and then set about 
to find materials to mend her. Tools were all too few — a 
hammer, a saw, and an adze were all we had. A piece of 
board or a nail was a treasure then, and when the timbers 
of the craft were covered, for oakum we had to resort to 
tree-gum. For caulking, one spared a handkerchief, an- 
other a stocking, and another a piece of shirt, till she was 
stuffed in all her fissures. In this labour we passed eight 
days, and then were ready for the launch again. 

On the very afternoon fixed for starting, we saw two 
sails standing down the river and edging towards our 
shore. One of them let anchor go right off the place 
where our patched boat lay. We had prudently carried 
on our work behind rocks and trees, so that we could not 
be seen, unless our foes came ashore. Our case seemed 
desperate enough, but all at once I determined on a dar- 
ing enterprise. 

The two vessels — convoys, I felt sure — had anchored 
some distance from each other, and from their mean ap- 


274 the seats of the mighty. 

pearance I did not think that they would have a large 
freight of men and arms ; for they seemed not ships from 
France, but vessels of the country. If I could divide the 
force of either vessel, and quietly, under cover of night, 
steal on her by surprise, then I would trust our desperate 
courage, and open the war which soon General W olfe and 
Admiral Saunders were to wage up and down this river. 

I had brave fellows with me, and if we got our will it 
would be a thing worth remembrance. So I disclosed my 
plan to Mr. Stevens and the others, and, as I looked for, 
they had a fine relish for the enterprise. I agreed upon a 
signal with them, bade them to lie close along the ground, 
picked out the nearer (which was the smaller) ship for my 
purpose, and at sunset, tying a white handkerchief to a 
stick, came marching out of the woods, upon the shore, 
firing a gun at the same time. Presently a boat was put 
out from the sloop, and two men and a boy came rowing 
towards me. Standing off a little distance from the shore, 
they asked what was wanted. 

“ The King’s errand,” was my reply in French, and 
I must be carried down the river by them, for which I 
would pay generously. Then, with idle gesture, I said 
that if they wished some drink, there was a bottle of rum 
near my fire, above me, to which they were welcome ; also 
some game, which they might take as a gift to their cap- 
tain and his crew. 

This drew them like a magnet, and, as I lit my pipe, 
their boat scraped the sand, and, getting out, they hauled 
her up and came towards me. I met them, and, pointing 
towards my fire, as it might appear, led them up behind 
the rocks, when, at a sign, my men sprang up, the fellows 
were seized, and were forbidden to cry out on peril of 
their lives. I compelled them to tell what hands and 
what arms were left on board. The sloop from which 
they came, and the schooner, its consort, were bound for 


THE LORD OP KAMARASKA. 


275 


Gaspe, to bring provisions for a thousand Indians assem- 
bled at Miramichi and Aristiguish, who were to go by 
these same vessels to re-enforce the garrison of Quebec. 

The sloop, they said, had six guns and a crew of 
twenty men ; but the schooner, which was much larger, 
carried no arms save muskets, but had a crew and a guard 
of thirty men. 

In this country there is no twilight, and with sunset 
came instantly the dusk. Already silence and dark in- 
closed the sloop. I had the men bound to a tree, and 
gagged also, engaging to return and bring them away safe 
and unhurt when our task was over. I chose for pilot the 
boy, and presently, with great care, launching our patched 
shallop from the stocks — for the ship-boat was too small 
to carry six safely — we got quietly away. Rowing with 
silent stroke we came alongside the sloop. No light 
burned save that in the binnacle, and all hands, except 
the watch, were below at supper and at cards. 

I could see the watch pacing forward as we dropped 
silently alongside the stern. My object was to catch this 
fellow as he came by. This I would trust to no one but 
myself ; for now, grown stronger, I had the old spring in 
my blood, and I had also a good wish that my plans should 
not go wrong through the bungling of others. I motioned 
my men to sit silent, and then, when the fellow’s back was 
toward me, coming softly up the side, I slid over quietly 
and drew into the shadow of a boat that hung near. 

He came on lazily, and when just past me I suddenly 
threw my arms about him, clapping my hand upon his 
mouth. He was stoutly built, and he began at once to 
struggle. He was no coward, and feeling for his knife, 
drew it, and would have had it in me but that I was 
quicker, and, with a desperate wrench, my hand still 
over his mouth, half swung him round and drove my 
dagger home. 


276 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


He sank in my arms with a heaving sigh, and I laid 
him down, still and dead, upon the deck. Then I whis- 
pered up my comrades, the boy leading. As the last man 
came over, his pistol, stuck in his belt, caught the rat- 
lings of the shrouds, and it dropped upon the deck. This 
gave the alarm, but I was at the companion-door on the 
instant, as the master came bounding up, sword showing, 
and calling to his men, who swarmed after him. I fired ; 
the bullet travelled along his spine, and he fell back 
stunned. 

A dozen others came on. Some reached the deck and 
grappled with my men. I never shall forget with what 
fiendish joy Clark fought that night — those five terrible 
minutes. He was like some mad devil, and by his impre- 
cations I knew that he was avenging the brutal death of 
his infant daughter some years before. He was armed 
with a long knife, and I saw four men fall beneath it, 
while he himself got but one bad cut. Of the Provin- 
cials, one fell wounded, and the other brought down his 
man. Mr. Stevens and myself held the companion-way, 
driving the crew back, not without hurt, for my wrist was 
slashed by a cutlass, and Mr. Stevens had a bullet in his 
thigh. But presently we had the joy of having those be- 
low cry quarter. 

We were masters of the sloop. Quickly battening 
down the prisoners, I had the sails spread, the windlass 
going, the anchor apeak quickly, and we soon were mov- 
ing down upon the schooner, which was now all con- 
fusion, commands ringing out on the quiet air. But 
when, laying alongside, we gave her a dose, and then 
another, from all our swivels at once, sweeping her decks, 
the timid fellows cried quarter, and we boarded her. 
With my men’s muskets cocked, I ordered her crew and 
soldiers below, till they were all, save two lusty youths, 
stowed away. Then I had everything of value brought 


WITH WOLFE AT MONTMOKENCI. 


277 


from the sloop, together with the swivels, which we fast- 
ened to the schooner’s side ; and when all was done, we 
set fire to the sloop, and I stood and watched her burn 
with a proud — too proud — spirit. 

Having brought our prisoners from the shore, we 
placed them with the rest below. At dawn I called a 
council with Mr. Stevens and the others — our one wound- 
ed Provincial was not omitted — and we all agreed that 
some of our captives should be sent off in the long boat, 
and that a portion of the rest should be used to work the 
ship. So we had half the fellows up, and giving them 
fishing-lines, rum, and provisions, with a couple of mus- 
kets and ammunition, we sent them off to shift for them- 
selves, and, raising anchor, we got on our way down the 
broad river, in perfect weather. 

The days that followed are like a good dream to me, 
for we came on all the way without challenge and with 
no adventure, even round Gaspe, to Louisburg, thirty- 
eight days after my escape from the fortress. 


XXIII. 

WITH WOLFE AT MOHTMOREHCI. 

At Louisburg we found that Admiral Saunders and 
General Wolfe were gone to Quebec. They had passed us 
as we came down, for we had sailed inside some islands 
of the coast, getting shelter and better passage, and the 
fleet had, no doubt, passed outside. This was a blow to 
me, for I had hoped to be in time to join General Wolfe 
and proceed with him to Quebec, where my knowledge of 
the place should be of service to him. It was, however, 
no time for lament, and I set about to find my way back 
again. Our prisoners I handed over to the authorities. 

19 


278 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


The two Provincials decided to remain and take service 
under General Amherst ; Mr. Stevens would join his own 
Hangers at once, but Clark would go back with me to 
have his hour with his hated foes. 

I paid Mr. Stevens and the two Provincials for their 
shares in the schooner, and Clark and I manned her 
afresh, and prepared to return instantly to Quebec. 
From General Amherst I received correspondence to 
carry to General Wolfe and Admiral Saunders. Before 
I started back, I sent letters to Governor Dinwiddie and 
to Mr. (now Colonel) George Washington, but I had no 
sooner done so than I received others from them through 
General Amherst. They had been sent to him to convey 
to General Wolfe at Quebec, who was, in turn, to hand 
them to me, when, as was hoped, I should be released 
from captivity, if not already beyond the power of men to 
free me. 

The letters from these friends almost atoned for my 
past sufferings, and I was ashamed that ever I had 
thought my countrymen forgot me in my misery ; for this 
was the first matter I saw when I opened the Governor’s 
letter : 

By the House of Burgesses. 

Resolved., That the sum of three hundred pounds he 
paid to Captain Robert Moray, in consideration of his 
services to the country and his singular sufferings in his 
confinement, as a hostage, in Quebec. 

This, I learned, was one of three such resolutions. 

But there were other matters in his letter which much 
amazed me. An attempt, the Governor said, had been 
made one dark night upon his strong-room, which would 
have succeeded but for the great bravery and loyalty of 
an old retainer. Two men were engaged in the attempt, 
one of whom was a Frenchman. Both men were masked, 


WITH WOLFE AT MONTMORENCI. 


279 


and, when set upon, fought with consummate bravery, 
and escaped. It was found the next day that the safe 
of my partner had also been rifled and all my papers 
stolen. There was no doubt in my mind what this 
meant. Doltaire, with some renegade Virginian who 
knew Williamsburg and myself, had made essay to get 
my papers. But they had failed in their designs, for all 
my valuable documents — and those desired by Doltaire 
among them — remained safe in the Governor’s strong- 
room. 

I got away again for Quebec flve days after reaching 
Louisburg. We came along with good winds, having no 
check, though twice we sighted French sloops, which, 
however, seemed most concerned to leave us to ourselves. 
At last, with colours flying, we sighted Kamaraska Isles, 
which I saluted, remembering the Chevalier de la Da- 
rante ; then Isle aux Coudres, below which we poor fugi- 
tives came so near disaster. Here we all felt new fer- 
vour, for the British flag flew from a stafl[ on a lofty point, 
tents were pitched thereon in a pretty cluster, and, round- 
ing a point, we came plump upon Admiral Durell’s little 
fleet, which was here to bar the advance of French ships 
and to waylay stragglers. 

On a blithe summer day we sighted, far off, the Isle 
of Orleans and the tall masts of two patrol ships of war, 
which in due time we passed, saluting, and ran abreast of 
the island in the North Channel. Coming up this pas- 
sage, I could see on an eminence, far distant, the tower of 
the Chateau Alixe ! 

Presently there opened on our sight the great bluff at 
the Falls of Montmorenci, and, crowning it with tents 
and batteries, the camp of General Wolfe himself, and the 
good ship Centurion standing off like a sentinel at a point 
where the Basin, the river Montmorenci, and the North 
Channel seem to meet. To our left, across the shoals, was 


280 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


Major Hardy’s post, on the extreme eastern point of the 
Isle of Orleans ; and again beyond that, in a straight line. 
Point Levis on the south shore, where Brigadier-General 
Monckton’s camp was pitched ; and farther on his bat- 
teries, from which shell and shot were poured into the 
town. How all had changed in the two months since I 
left there ! Around the Seigneur Duvarney’s manor, in 
the sweet village of Beauport, was encamped the French 
army, and redoubts and batteries were ranged where Alixe 
and I and her brother Juste had many a time walked in a 
sylvan quiet. Here, as it were, round the bent and broken 
sides of a bowl, war raged, and the centre was like some 
caldron, out of which imps of ships sprang to hand up 
fires of hell to the battalions on the ledges. Here swung 
Admiral Saunders’s and Admiral Holmes’s divisions, out 
of reach of the French batteries, yet able to menace and 
destroy and to feed the British camps with men and 
munitions. There were no French ships in sight— only 
two old hulks with guns in the mouth of the St. Charles 
River, to protect the road to the palace gate — that is, the 
gate at the Intendance. 

It was all there before me, the investment of Quebec, 
for which I had prayed and waited seven long years. 

All at once, on a lull in the fighting which had lasted 
twenty-four hours, the heavy batteries from the Levis 
shore opened upon the town, emptying therein the fatal 
fuel. Mixed feelings possessed me. I had at first listened 
to Clark’s delighted imprecations and devilish praises with 
a feeling of brag almost akin to his own — that was the 
soldier and the Briton in me. But all at once the man, 
the lover, and the husband spoke : my wife was in that 
beleaguered town under that monstrous shower ! She had 
said that she would never leave it till I came to fetch her. 
Yet might she not be dead — or, if living, immured in a 
convent ? For I knew well that our marriage must be- 


WITH WOLFE AT MONTMORENCI. 


281 


come known after I had escaped ; that she would not, for 
her own good pride and womanhood, keep it secret then ; 
that it would be proclaimed while yet Gabord and the 
excellent chaplain were alive to attest all. 

Summoned by the Centurion, we were passed on beyond 
the eastern point of the Isle of Orleans to the admiral’s 
ship, which lay in the channel off the point, with battle- 
ships in front and rear, and a line of frigates curving 
towards the rocky peninsula of Quebec. Then came a 
line of buoys beyond these, with manned boats moored 
alongside to protect the fleet from fire rafts, which once 
already the enemy had unavailingly sent down to ruin and 
burn our fleet. 

Admiral Saunders received me with great cordiality, 
thanked me for the dispatches, heard with applause of my 
adventures with the convoy, and at once, with dry humour, 
said he would be glad, if General Wolfe consented, to 
make my captured schooner one of his fleet. Later, when 
her history and doings became known in the fleet, she was 
at once called the Terror of France ; for she did a wild 
thing or two before Quebec fell, though from first to last 
she had but her six swivel guns, which I had taken from 
the burned sloop. Clark had command of her. 

From Admiral Saunders I learned that Bigot had re- 
covered from his hurt, which had not been severe, and of 
the death of Monsieur Cournal, who had ridden his horse 
over the cliff in the dark. From the admiral I came to 
General Wolfe at Montmorenci. 

I shall never forget my first look at my hero, that 
flaming, exhaustless spirit, in a body so gauche and so un- 
shapely. When I was brought to him, he was standing 
on a knoll alone, looking through a glass towards the bat- 
teries of Levis. The first thing that struck me, as he 
lowered the glass and leaned against a gun, was the mel- 
ancholy in the line of his figure. I never forget that, for 


282 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


it seemed to me even then that, whatever glory there was 
for British arms ahead, there was tragedy for him. Yet, 
as he turned at the sound of our footsteps, I almost 
laughed ; for his straight red hair, his face defying all 
regularity, with the nose thrust out like a wedge and the 
chin falling back from an affectionate sort of mouth, his 
tall, straggling frame and far from athletic shoulders, all 
challenged contrast with the compact, handsome, gracious- 
ly shaped Montcalm. In Montcalm was all manner of 
things to charm— all save that which presently filled me 
with awe, and showed me wherein this sallow-featured, 
pain-racked Briton was greater than his rival beyond 
measure : in that searching, burning eye, which carried 
all the distinction and greatness denied him elsewhere. 
There resolution, courage, endurance, deep design, clear 
vision, dogged will, and heroism lived : a bright furnace 
of daring resolves, which gave England her sound desire. 

An officer of his staff presented me. The General 
looked at me with piercing intelligence, and then, pres- 
ently, his long hand made a swift motion of knowledge 
and greeting, and he said : 

“ Yes, yes, and you are welcome. Captain Moray. I 
have heard of you, of much to your credit. You were for 
years in durance there.” 

He pointed towards the town, where we could see the 
dome of the cathedral shine, and the leaping smoke and 
flame of the roaring batteries. 

“ Six years, your Excellency,” said I. 

“ Papers of yours fell into General Braddock’s hands, 
and they tried you for a spy — a curious case — a curious 
case ! Wherein were they wrong and you justified, and 
why was all exchange refused ? ” 

I told him the main, the bare facts, and how, to force 
certain papers from me, I had been hounded to the edge 
of the grave. He nodded, and seemed lost in study of the 


WITH WOLFE AT MONTMORENCI. 


283 


mud-flats at the Beauport shore, and presently took to 
beating his foot upon the ground. After a minute, as if 
he had come back from a distance, he said : “ Yes, yes, 
broken articles. Few women have a sense of national 
honour, such as La Pompadour none! An interesting 
matter.” 

Then, after a moment: “You shall talk with our 
chief engineer ; you know the town ; you should be use- 
ful to me. Captain Moray. What do you suggest concern- 
ing this siege of ours ? ” 

“ Has any attack been made from above the town, your 
Excellency ? ” 

He lifted his eyebrows. “ Is it vulnerable from there ? 
From Cap Rouge, you mean ? ” 

“They have you at advantage everywhere, sir,” I 
said. “ A thousand men could keep the town, so long 
as this river, those mud-flats, and those high cliffs are 
there.” 

“ But above the town ” 

“ Above the citadel there is a way — the only way : a 
feint from the basin here, a sham menace and attack, and 
the real action at the other door of the town.” 

“ They will, of course, throw fresh strength and vigi- 
lance above, if our fleet run their batteries and attack 
there ; the river at Cap Rouge is like this Montmorenci 
for defence.” He shook his head. “ There is no way, I 
fear.” 

“ General,” said I, “ if you will take me into your serv- 
ice, and then give me leave to handle my little schooner 
in this basin and in the river above, I will prove that you 
may take your army into Quebec, by entering it myself, 
and returning with that as precious to me as the taking 
of Quebec to you.” 

He looked at me piercingly for a minute, then a sour 
sort of smile played at his lips. “ A woman ! ” he said. 


284 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY, 


“ Well, it were not the first time the love of a wench 
opened the gates to a nation’s victory.” 

“ Love of a wife, sir, should carry a man farther.” 

He turned on me a commanding look. “Speak 
plainly,” said he. “ If we are to use you, let us know you 
in all.” 

He waved farther back the ofiicers with him. 

“ I have no other wish, your Excellency,” I answered 
him. Then I told him briefiy of the Seigneur Duvarney, 
of Alixe, and of Doltaire. 

“ Duvarney ! Duvarney ! ” he said, and a light came 
into his look. Then he called an officer. “ Was it not 
one Seigneur Duvarney who this morning prayed pro- 
tection for his chateau on the Isle of Orleans ? ” he asked. 

“ Even so, your Excellency,” was the reply ; “ and he 
said that if Captain Moray was with us, he would surely 
speak for the humanity and kindness he and his house- 
hold had shown to British prisoners.” 

“You speak, then, for this gentleman?” he asked, 
with a dry sort of smile. 

“ With all my heart,” I answered. “ But why does he 
ask protection at this late day ? ” 

“ New orders are issued to lay waste the country ; 
hitherto all property was safe,” was the General’s reply. 
‘See that the Seigneur Duvarney’s suit is granted,” he, 
added to his officer, “ and say that it is by Captain Moray’s 
intervention. — There is another matter of this kind to 
be arranged this noon,” he continued : “ an exchange of 
prisoners, among whom are some ladies of birth and breed- 
ing, captured but two days ago. A gentleman comes 
from General Montcalm directly upon the point. You 
might be useful herein,” he added, “ if you will come to 
my tent in an hour.” He turned to go. 

“ And my ship, and permission to enter the town, your 
Excellency ? ” I asked.* 


WITH WOLFE AT MONTMORENCI. 285 

“What do you call your — ship?” he asked a little 
grimly. 

I told him how the sailors had already christened her. 
He smiled. “ Then let her prove her title to Terror of 
France,” he said, “ by being pilot to the rest of our fleet up 
the river, and you. Captain Moray, be guide to a footing 
on those heights ” — he pointed to the town. “ Then this 
army and its General, and all England, please God, will 
thank you. Your craft shall have commission as a rover 
— but if she gets into trouble ? ” 

“ She will do as her owner has done these six years, 
your Excellency : she will fight her way out alone.” 

He gazed long at the town and at the Levis shore. 
“ From above, then, there is a way ? ” 

“ For proof, if I come back alive ” 

“For proof that you have been ” he answered 

meaningly, with an amused flash of his eyes, though at 
the very moment a spasm of pain crossed his face, for he 
was suffering from an incurable disease, and went about 
his great task in daily misery, yet cheerful and inspiring. 

“ For proof, my wife, sir ! ” said I. 

He nodded, but his thoughts were diverted instantly, 
and he went from me at once abstracted. But again he 
came back. “ If you return,” said he, “ you shall serve 
upon my staff. You will care to view our operations,” he 
added, motioning towards the intrenchments at the river. 
Then he stepped quickly away, and I was taken by an 
officer to the river, and though my heart warmed within 
me to hear that an attack was presently to be made from 
the shore, not far distant from the falls, I felt that the 
attempt could not succeed : the French were too well 
intrenched. 

At the close of an hour I returned to the General’s 
tent. It was luncheon-time, and thqy were about to sit as 
I was announced. The General motioned me to a seat, 


286 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


and then again, as if on second thought, made as though 
to introduce me to some one who stood beside him. My 
amazement was unbounded when I saw, smiling cynically 
at me. Monsieur Doltaire ! 

He was the envoy from Quebec. I looked him in the 
eyes steadily for a moment, into malicious, unswerving 
eyes, as maliciously and unswervingly myself ; and then 
we both bowed. 

“ Captain Moray and I have sat* at meat together be- 
fore,” he said, with mannered coolness. “ We have played 
host and guest also : but that was ere he won our hearts 
by bold, romantic feats. Still, I dared scarcely hope to 
meet him at this table.” 

“ Which is sacred to good manners,” said I, mean- 
ingly and coolly, for my anger and surprise were too deep 
for excitement. 

I saw the General look at both of us keenly, then his 
marvellous eyes flashed intelligence, and a grim smile 
played at his lips a moment. After a little general con- 
versation Doltaire addressed me : 

“We are not yet so overwhelmed with war but your 
being here again will give a fillip to our gossip. It must 
seem sad to you — you were so long with us — you have 
broken bread with so many of us — to see us pelted so. 
Sometimes a dinner-table is disordered by a riotous shell.” 

He was bent on torturing me. It was not hard to do 
that, for how knew I what had happened ! How was it 
he came back so soon from the Bastile ? It was incred- 
ible. Perhaps he had never gone, in spite of all. After 
luncheon, the matter of exchange of prisoners was gone 
into, and one by one the names of the French prisoners 
in our hands — ladies and gentlemen apprehended at the 
chateau — were ticked off, and I knew them all save two. 
The General deferred to me several times as to the per- 
sons and positions of the captives, and asked my sugges' 


WITH WOLFE AT MONTMORENCI. 


287 


tions. Immediately I proposed Mr. Wainfleet, the chap- 
lain, in exchange for a prisoner, though his name was not 
on the list, but Doltaire shook his head in a blank sort 
of way. 

“ Mr. Wainfleet ! Mr. Wainfleet ! There was no 
such prisoner in the town,” he said. 

I insisted, but he stared at me inscrutably, and said 
that he had no record of the man. Then I spoke most 
forcibly to the General, and said that Mr. Wainfleet should 
be produced, or an account of him be given by the French 
Governor. Doltaire then said : 

“ I am only responsible for these names recorded. Our 
General trusts to your honour, and you to ours. Mon- 
sieur le Generate.” 

There was nothing more to say, and presently the ex- 
changes were arranged, and, after compliments, Doltaire 
took his leave. I left the Governor also, and followed 
Doltaire. He turned to meet me. 

“ Captain Moray and I,” he remarked to the ofiicers 
near, “ are old — enemies ; and there is a sad sweetness in 
meetings like these. May I ” 

The officers drew away at a little distance before the 
suggestion was really made, and we were left alone. I 
was in a white heat, but yet in fair control. 

“ You are surprised to see me here,” he said. “ Did 
you think the Bastile was for me ? Tut ! I had not got 
out of the country when a packet came, bearing fresh 
commands. La Pompadour forgave me, and in the 
King’s name bade me return to Kew France, and in h^r 
own she bade me get your papers, or hang you straight. 
And — you will think it singular — if need be, I was to 
relieve the Governor, and Bigot also, and work to save 
New France with the excellent Marquis de Montcalm.” 
He laughed. “You can see how absurd that is. I have 
held my peace, and I keep my commission in my pocket.” 


288 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


I looked at him amazed that he should tell me this. 
He read my look, and said : 

“ Yes, you are my confidant in this. I do not fear 
you. Your enemy is bound in honour, your friend may 
seek to serve himself.” Again he laughed. “ As if I, 
Tinoir Doltaire — note the agreeable combination of 
peasant and gentleman in my name — who held his hand 
from ambition for large things in France, should stake 
a lifetime on this foolish hazard ! When I play. Captain 
Moray, it is for things large and vital. Else I remain 
the idler, the courtier — the son of the King.” 

“ Yet you lend your vast talent, the genius of those 
unknown possibilities, to this, monsieur — this little busi- 
ness of exchange of prisoners,” I retorted ironically. 

“ That is my whim — a social courtesy.” 

“You said you knew nothing of the chaplain,” I 
broke out. 

“ Not so. I said he was on no record given me. 
Officially I know nothing of him.” 

“ Come,” said I, “ you know well how I am concerned 
for him. You quibble ; you lied to our General.” 

A wicked light shone in his eyes. “ I choose to pass 
that by, for the moment,” said he. “ I am sorry you for- 
get yourself ; it were better for you and me to be cour- 
teous till our hour of reckoning. Shall we not meet to 
purpose some day ? ” he said, with a sweet hatred in his 
tone. 

“ With all my heart.” 

“ But where ? ” 

“ In yonder town,” said I, pointing. 

He laughed provokingly. » You are melodramatic,” 
he rejoined. “ I could hold that town with one thou- 
sand men against all your army and five times your fleet.” 

“ You have ever talked and nothing done,” said I. 
“ Will you tell me the truth concerning the chaplain ? ” 


WITH WOLFE AT MONTMOREKCl. 289 

“ Yes, in private the truth you shall hear,” he said. 
“ The man is dead.” 

“ If you speak true, he was murdered,” I broke out. 
“ You know well why ! ” 

“ No, no,” he answered. “ He was put in prison, es- 
caped, made for the river, was pursued, fought, and was 
killed. So much he got for serving you ! ” 

“Will you answer me one question?” said I. “Is 
my wife well ? Is she safe ? She is there set among 
villainies.” 

“ Your wife ?” he answered, sneering. “ If you mean 
Mademoiselle Duvarney, she is not there.” Then he 
added solemnly and slowly : “ She is in no fear of your 
batteries now — she is beyond them. When she was there, 
she was not child enough to think that foolish game 
with the vanished chaplain was a marriage. Did you 
think to gull a lady so beyond the minute’s wildness? 
She is hot there,” he added again in a low voice. 

“ She is dead ? ” I gasped. “ My wife is dead ? ” 

“ Enough of that,” he answered with cold fierceness. 
“ The lady saw the folly of it all, before she had done 
with the world. You — you, monsieur ! It was but the 
pity of her gentle heart, of a romantic nature. You — 
you blundering alien, spy, and seducer ! ” 

With a gasp of anger I struck him in the face, and 
whipped out my sword. But the officers near came in- 
stantly between us, and I could see that they thought me 
gross and ill-mannered, to do this thing before the Gen- 
eral’s tent, and to an envoy. 

Doltaire stood still a moment. Then presently he 
wiped a little blood from his month, and said : 

“ Messieurs, Captain Moray’s anger was justified ; and 
for the blow, he will justify that in some happier time — 
for me. He said that I had lied, and I proved him 
wrong. I called him a spy and a seducer — he sought 


290 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


to shame, he covered with sorrow, one of the noblest 
families of New France — and he has yet to prove me 
wrong. As envoy I may not fight him now, but I may 
tell you that I have every cue to send him to hell one 
day. He will do me the credit to say that it is not 
cowardice that stays me.” 

“ If no coward in the way of fighting, coward in all 
other things,” I retorted instantly. 

“ Well, well, as you may think.” He turned to go. 
“We will meet there, then ? ” her sj^id, pointing to the 
town. “ And when ? ” 

“ To-morrow,” said I. 

He shrugged his shoulder as to a boyish petulance, 
for he thought it an idle boast. “To-morrow? Then 
come and pray with me in the cathedral, and after that 
we will cast up accounts — to-morrow,” he said, with a 
poignant and exultant malice. A moment afterwards he 
was gone, and I was left alone. 

Presently I saw a boat shoot out from the shore be- 
low, and he was in it. Seeing me, he waved a hand in 
an ironical way. I paced up and down^ sick and dis- 
tracted, for half an hour or more. I knew not whether 
he lied concerning Alixe, but my heart was Vrung with 
misery, for indeed he spoke with an air of truth. 

Dead ! dead ! dead ! “ In no fear of your batteries 
now,” he had said. “ Done with the world ! ” he had 
said. What else could it mean? Yet, the more I 
thought, there came a feeling that somehow I had been 
tricked. “ Done with the world ! ” Ay, a nunnery — was 
that it ? But then, “ In no fear of your batteries now ” — 
that, what did that mean but death ? 

At this distressful moment a message came from the 
General, and I went to his tent, trying to calm myself, 
but overcome with apprehension. I was kept another 
half hour waiting, and then, coming in to him, he qiies- 


WITH WOLFE AT MONTMORENCI. 


291 


tioned me closely for a little time about Doltaire^ and 
I told him the whole story briefly. Presently his secre- 
tary brought me the commission for my appointment to 
special service on the General’s own staff. 

“ Your first duty,” said his Excellency, “ will be to — re- 
connoitre ; and if you come back safe, we will talk further.” 

While he was speaking I kept looking at the list oi 
prisoners which still lay upon his table. It ran thus : 

Monsieur and Madame Joubert. 

Monsieur and Madame Carganal. 

Madame Rousillon. 

Madame Champigny. 

Monsieur Pipon. 

Mademoiselle La Rose. 

L’Abbe Durand. 

Monsieur Halboir. 

La Soeur Angelique. 

La Soeur Seraphine. 

I know not why it was, but the last three names held my 
eyes. Each of the other names I knew, and their owners 
also. When I looked close, I saw that where “ La Soeur 
Angelique ” now was another name had been written and 
then erased. I saw also that the writing was recent. 
Again, where “ Halboir ” was written there had been an- 
other name, and the same process of erasure and sub- 
stitution had been made. It was not so with “ La Soeur 
Seraphine.” I said to the General at once, “ Your Excel- 
lency, it is possible you have been tricked.” I pointed 
out what I had noted. He nodded. 

“ Will you let me go, sir ?” said I. “ Will you let me 
see this exchange ? ” 

“ I fear you will be too late,” he answered. “ It is not 
a vital matter, I fancy.” 

“ Perhaps to me most vital,” said I, and I explained 
my fears. 


2y2 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


“ Then go, go,” he said kindly. He quickly gave di- 
rections to have me carried to Admiral Saunders’s ship, 
wnere the exchange was to be effected, and at the same 
time I was handed a general passport. 

In a few moments we were hard on our way. Now the 
batteries were silent. By the General’s orders, the bom- 
bardment ceased while the exchange was being effected, 
and the French batteries also stopped firing. A sudden 
quietness seemed to settle on land and sea, and there was 
only heard, now and then, the note of a bugle from a ship 
of war. The water in the basin was moveless, and the air 
was calm and quiet. This heraldry of war was all un- 
natural in the golden weather and sweet-smelling land. 

I urged the rowers to their task, and we flew on. We 
passed another boat loaded with men, singing boisterously 
a disorderly sort of song, called “ Hot Stuff,” set to the air 
“ Lilies of France.” It was out of touch with the general 
quiet : 

“ When the gay Forty-Seventh is dashing ashore, 

While bullets are whistling and cannons do roar, 

Says Montcalm, ‘ Those are Shirleys — I know the lapels.* 

‘ You lie,’ says Ned Botwood, ‘ we swipe for Lascelles ! 
Though our clothing is changed, and we scout powder-puff, 
Here’s at you, ye swabs — here’s give you Hot Stuff ! ’ ” 

While yet we were about two miles away, I saw a boat 
put out from the admiral’s ship, then, at the same mo- 
ment, one from the Lower Town, and they drew towards 
each other. I urged my men to their task, and as we were 
passing some of Admiral Saunders’s ships, their sailors 
cheered us. Then came a silence, and it seemed to me 
that all our army and fleet, and that at Beauport, and the 
garrison of Quebec, were watching us ; for the ramparts 
and shore were crowded. We drove on at an angle, to 
intercept the boat that left the admiral’s ship before it 
reached the town. 


WITH WOLFE AT MONTMORENCI. 


293 


War leaned upon its arms and watched a strange duel. 
There was no authority in any one’s hands save my own 
to stop the boat, and the two armies must avoid firing, 
for the people of both nations were here in this space be- 
tween — ladies and gentlemen in the French boat going to 
the town, Englishmen and a poor woman or two coming 
to our own fieet. 

My men strained every muscle, but the pace was im- 
possible — it could not last ; and the rowers in the French 
boat hung over their oars also with enthusiasm. With the 
glass of the officer near me — Kingdon of Anstruther’s 
Regiment — I could now see Doltaire standing erect in 
the boat, urging the boatmen on. 

All round that basin, on shore and cliff and mountains, 
thousands of veteran fighters — Fraser’s, Otway’s, Town- 
send’s, Murray’s ; and on the other side the splendid 
soldiers of La Sarre, Languedoc, Bearn, and Guienne 
— watched in silence. Well they might, for in this 
entr'acte was the little weapon forged which opened the 
door of New France to England’s glory. So may the lit- 
tle talent or opportunity make possible the genius of the 
great. 

The pain of this suspense grew so, that I longed for 
some sound to break the stillness ; but there was nothing 
for minute after minute. Then, at last, on the halcyon 
air of the summer day fioated the Angelas from the cathe- 
dral tower. Only a moment, in which one could feel, and 
see also, the French army praying, then came from the 
ramparts the sharp, inspiring roll of a drum, and pres- 
ently all was still again. Nearer and nearer the boat of 
prisoners approached the stone steps of the landing, and 
we were several hundred yards behind. 

I motioned to Doltaire to stop, but he made no sign. 
I saw the cloaked figures of the nuns near him, and I 
strained my eyes, but I could not note their faces. My 
20 


294 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


men worked on ardently, and presently we gained. But 
I saw that it was impossible to reach them before they set 
foot on shore. Now their boat came to the steps, and one 
by one they hastily got out. Then I called to Doltaire to 
stop. The air was still, and my voice carried distinctly. 
Suddenly one of the cloaked figures sprang towards the 
steps with arms outstretched, calling aloud, “ Robert ! 
Robert ! ” After a moment, “ Robert, my husband ! ” 
rang out again, and then a young officer and the other 
nun took her by the arm to force her away. At the sharp 
instigation of Doltaire, some companies of marines filed 
in upon the place where they had stood, leveled their mus- 
kets on us, and hid my beloved wife from my view. I 
recognized the young officer who had put a hand upon 
Alixe. It was her brother Juste. 

“ Alixe ! Alixe ! ” I called, as my boat still came on. 

“ Save me, Robert ! ” came the anguished reply, a faint 
but searching sound, and then no more. 

Misery and mystery were in my heart all at once. Dol- 
taire had tricked me. “ Those batteries can not harm her 
now ! ” Yes, yes, they could not while she was a prisoner 
in our camp. “ Done with the world ! ” Truly, when 
wearing the garb of the Sister Ang^lique. But why 
that garb? I swore that I would be within that town 
by the morrow, that I would fetch my wife into safety, 
out from the damnable arts and devices of Master Devil 
Doltaire, as Gabord had called him. 

The captain of the marines warned us that another 
boat’s length would fetch upon us the fire of his men. 
There was nothing to do but to turn back, while from the 
shore I was reviled by soldiers and by the rabble. My 
marriage with Alixe had been made a national matter — 
of race and religion. So, as my men rowed back towards 
our fleet, I faced my enemies, and looked towards them 
without moving. I was grim enough that moment, God 


THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN. 


295 


knows ; I felt turned to stone. I did not stir when — in- 
effaceable brutality — the batteries on the heights began 
to play upon us, the shot falling round us, and passing 
over our heads, and musket-firing followed. 

“ Damned villains ! Faithless brutes ! ” cried Kingdon 
beside me. I did not speak a word, but stood there de- 
fiant, as when we first had turned back. Now, sharply, 
angrily, from all our batteries, there came reply to the 
French ; and as we came on, with only one man wounded 
and one oar broken, our whole fieet cheered us. 1 steered 
straight for the Terror of France, and there Clark and I, 
he swearing violently, laid plans. 


XXIV. 

THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN. 

That night, at nine o’clock, the Terror of France, 
catching the flow of the tide, with one sail set and a 
gentle wind, left the fleet and came slowly up the river, 
under the batteries of the town. In the gloom we passed 
lazily on with the flow of the tide, unquestioned, soon 
leaving the citadel behind, and ere long arrived safely at 
that point called Anse du Foulon, above which Sillery 
stood. The shore could not be seen distinctly, but I 
knew by a perfect instinct the cleft in the hillside where 
was the path leading up the mountain. I bade Clark 
come up the river again two nights hence to watch for 
my signal, which was there agreed upon. If I did not 
come, then, with General Wolfe’s consent, he must show 
the General this path up the mountain. He swore that 
all should be as I wished; and indeed you would have 
thought that he and his Terror of France were to level 
Quebec to the water’s edge. 


296 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


I stole softly to the shore in a boat, which I drew up 
among the bushes, hiding it as well as 1 could in the dark, 
and then, feeling for my pistols and my knife, I crept 
upward, coming presently to the passage in the moun- 
tain. I toiled on to the summit without a sound of alarm 
from above. Pushing forward, a light flashed from the 
windmill, and a man, and then two men, appeared in the 
open door. One of them was Captain Lancy, whom I had 
very good reason to remember. The last time I saw him 
was that famous morning when he would have had me 
shot five minutes before the appointed hour, rather than 
endure the cold and be kept from his breakfast. I itched 
to call him to account then and there, but that would 
have been foolish play. I was outside the belt of light 
falling from the door, and stealing round I came near to 
the windmill on the town side. I was not surprised to 
see such poor watch kept. Above the town, up to this 
time, the guard was of a perfunctory sort, for the great 
cliffs were thought impregnable ; and even if surmount- 
ed, there was still the walled town to take, surrounded by 
the St. Lawrence, the St. Charles, and these massive bul- 
warks. 

Presently Lancy stepped out into the light, and said, 
with a hoarse laugh, “ Blood of Peter, it was a sight to- 
day ! She has a constant fancy for the English filibuster. 
‘ Robert ! my husband ! ’ she bleated like a pretty lamb, 
and Doltaire grinned at her.” 

“ But Doltaire will have her yet.” 

“ He has her pinched like a mouse in a weasel’s teeth.” 

“ My faith, mademoiselle has no sweet road to travel 
since her mother died,” was the careless reply. 

I almost cried out. Here was a blow which staggered 
me. Her mother dead ! 

Presently the scoffer continued : “ The Duvarneys 
would remain in the city, and on that very night, as they 


THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN. 


297 


sit at dinner, a shell disturbs them, a splinter strikes 
madame, and two days later she is carried to her grave.” 

They linked arms and walked on. 

It was a dangerous business I was set on, for I was 
sure that I would be hung without shrift if captured. 
As I discovered afterwards, I had been proclaimed, and it 
was enjoined on all Frenchmen and true Catholics to kill 
me if the chance showed. 

Only two things could I depend on : Voban, and my 
disguise, which was very good. From the Terror of 
France I had got a peasant’s dress, and by rubbing my 
hands and face with the stain of butternut, cutting again 
my new-grown beard, and wearing a wig, I was well 
guarded against discovery. 

How to get into the city was the question. By the 
St. Charles River and the Palace Gate, and by the St. Louis 
Gate, not far from the citadel, were the only ways, and both 
were difficult. I had, however, two or three plans, and 
these I chewed as I travelled across Maitre Abraham’s 
fields, and came to the main road from Sillery to the town. 

Soon I heard the noise of clattering hoofs, and jointly 
with this I saw a figure rise up not far ahead of me, as if 
waiting for the coming horseman. I drew back. The 
horseman passed me, and, as he came on slowly, I saw the 
figure spring suddenly from the roadside and make a 
stroke at the horseman. In a moment they were a rolling 
mass upon the ground, while the horse trotted down the 
road a little and stood still. I never knew the cause of 
that encounter — robbery, or private hate, or paid assault ; 
but there was scarcely a sound as the two men struggled. 
Presently there was groaning, and both lay still. I hur- 
ried to them, and found one dead, and the other dying, 
and dagger wounds in both ; for the assault had been at 
such close quarters that the horseman had had no chance 
to use a pistol. 


298 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


My plans were changed on the instant. I drew the 
military coat, boots, and cap off the horseman, and put 
them on myself ; and thrusting my hand into his waist- 
coat— for he looked like a courier — I found a packet. 
This I put into my pocket, and then, making for the 
horse which stood quiet in the road, I mounted it and 
rode on towards the town. Striking a light, I found that 
the packet was addressed to the Governor. A serious 
thought disturbed me : I could not get into the town 
through the gates without the countersign. I rode on, 
anxious and perplexed. 

Presently a thought pulled me up. The courier was 
insensible when I left him, and he was the only person 
who could help me in this. I reproached myself for leav- 
ing him while he was still alive. “ Poor devil,” thought 
I to myself, “ there is some one whom his death will hurt. 
He must not die alone. He was no enemy of mine.” I 
went back, and, getting from the horse, stooped to him, 
lifted up his head, and found that he was not dead. I 
spoke in his ear. He moaned, and his eyes opened. 

“ What is your name ? ” said I. 

“Jean — Labrouk,” he whispered. 

Now I remembered him. He was the soldier whom 
Gabord had sent as messenger to Vohan the night I was 
first taken to the citadel. 

“ Shall I carry word for you to any one ? ” asked I. 

There was a slight pause ; then he said, “ Tell my — 
Babette — Jacques Dobrotte owes me ten francs — and — a 
leg — of mutton. Tell — my Babette — to give my coat of 
beaver fur to Gabord the soldier. Tell ”... he sank 
back, but raised himself, and continued : “ Tell my Ba- 
bette I weep with her. . . . Ah, mon grand homme de 
Calvaire — Ion soir ! ” He sank hack again, but I roused 
him with one question more, vital to me. I must have 
the countersign. 


THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN. 


299 


“ Labrouk ! Labrouk ! ” said I sharply. 

He opened his dull, glazed eyes. 

“ Qui va la 9 ” said I, and I waited anxiously. 

Thought seemed to rally in him, and, staring — alas ! 
how helpless and how sad : that look of a man brought 
back for an instant from the Shadows !— his lips moved. 

“ France,” was the whispered reply. 

“ Advance and give the countersign ! ” I urged. 

“ Jesu ” he murmured faintly. I drew from my 

breast the cross that Mathilde had given me, and pressed 
it to his lips. He sighed softly, lifted his hand to it, and 
then fell back, never to speak again. 

After covering his face and decently laying the body 
out, I mounted the horse again. Glancing up, I saw that 
this bad business had befallen not twenty feet from a 
high Calvary at the roadside. 

I was in a painful quandary. Did Labrouk mean that 
the countersign was “ Jesw,” or was that word the broken 
prayer of his soul as it hurried forth ? So strange a coun- 
tersign I had never heard, and yet it might be used in 
this Catholic country. This day might be some great 
feast of the Church — possibly that of the naming of 
Christ (which was the case, as I afterwards knew). I rode 
on, tossed about in my mind. So much hung on this. 
If I could not give the countersign, I should have to fight 
my way back again the road I came. But I must try my 
luck. So I went on, beating up my heart to confidence ; 
and now I came to the St. Louis Gate. A tiny fire was 
burning near, and two sentinels stepped forward as I rode 
boldly on the entrance. 

“ Qui va la 9 ” was the sharp call. 

“ France,” was my reply, in a voice as like a peasant’s 
as possible. 

“ Advance and give the countersign,” came the de- 
mand. 


300 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


Another voice called from the darkness of the wall : 
“ Come and drink, comrade ; I’ve a brother with Bougain- 
ville.” 

“ Jesu^'* said I to the sentinel, answering his demand 
for the countersign, and I spurred on my horse idly, 
though my heart was thumping hard, for there were 
several sturdy fellows lying beyond the dull handful of 
fire. 

Instantly the sentinel’s hand came to my bridle-rein. 
“ Halt ! ” roared he. 

Surely some good spirit was with me then to prompt 
me, for, with a careless laugh, as though I had not be- 
fore finished the countersign, Christ I added — '‘^Jesu 
Christ 

With an oath the soldier let go the bridle-rein, the 
other opened the gates, and I passed through. I heard 
the first fellow swearing roundly to the others that he 
would “ send yon courier to fires of hell if he played with 
him again so.” 

The gates closed behind me, and I was in the town 
which had seen the worst days and best moments of my 
life. I rode along at a trot, and once again beyond the 
citadel was summoned by a sentinel. Safely passed on I 
came down towards the Chateau St. Louis. I rode boldly 
up to the great entrance door, and handed the packet to 
the sentinel. 

“ From whom ? ” he asked. 

“Look in the corner,” said I. “And what business 
is’t of yours ? ” 

“ There is no word in the corner,” answered he dog- 
gedly. “ Is’t from Monsieur le Generate at Cap Rouge ? ” 

“ Bah ! Did you think it was from an English wolf ? ” 
I asked. 

His dull face broke a little. ‘‘Is Jean Labrouk with 
Bougainville yet ? ” 



Instantly the sentiners hand came to my biidle-rein. 





THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN. 30I 

“He’s done with Bougainville; he’s dead,” I an- 
swered. 

“ Dead ! dead ! ” said he, a sort of grin playing on his 
face. 

I made a shot at a venture. “ But you’re to pay his 
wife Babette the ten francs and the leg of mutton in 
twenty-four hours, or his ghost will follow you. Swallow 
that, pudding-head ! And see you pay it, or every man in 
our company swears to break a score of shingles on your 
bare back.” 

“ I’ll pay. I’ll pay,” he said, and he began to tremble. 

“ Where shall I find Babette ? ” asked I. “ I come 
from the Isle aux Coudres ; I know not this rambling 
town.” 

“A little house hugging the cathedral rear,” he an- 
swered. “ Babette sweeps out the vestry, and fetches 
water for the priests.” 

“ Good,” said I. “ Take that to the Governor at once, 
and send the corporal of the guard to have this horse fed 
and cared for, as he’s to carry back the Governor’s mes- 
senger. I’ve further business for the General in the town. 
And tell your captain of the guard to send and pick up 
two dead men in the highway, just against the first Cal- 
vary beyond the town.” 

He did my bidding, and I dismounted, and was about 
to get away, when I saw the Chevalier de la Darante and 
the Intendant appear at the door. They paused upon the 
steps. The Chevalier was speaking most earnestly : 

“ To a nunnery — a piteous shame ! it should not be, 
your Excellency.” 

“ To decline upon Monsieur Doltaire, then ? ” asked 
Bigot, with a sneer. 

“ Your Excellency believes in no woman,” responded 
the Chevalier stiffly. 

“ Ah yes, in one ! ” was the cynical reply. 


302 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


“ Is it possible ? And she remains a friend of your 
Excellency ! ” came back in irony. 

“ The very best ; she finds me unendurable.” 

“ Philosophy shirks the solving of that problem, your 
Excellency,” was the cold reply. 

“ No, it is easy. The woman to be trusted is she who 
never trusts.” 

“ The paragon — or prodigy — who is she ? ” 

“ Even Madame Jamond.” 

“ She danced for you once, your Excellency, they tell 
me.” 

“ She was a devil that night ; she drove us mad.” 

So Doltaire had not given up the secret of that affair ! 
There was silence for a moment, and then the Chevalier 
said, “ Her father will not let her go to a nunnery — no, 
no. Why should he yield to the Church in this ? ” 

Bigot shrugged a shoulder. “ Not even to hide — 
shame ? ” 

“ Liar — ruffian ! ” said I through my teeth. The 
Chevalier answered for me : 

“ I would stake my life on her truth and purity.” 

“ You forget the mock marriage, dear Chevalier.” 

“ It was after the manner of his creed and people.” 

“ It was after a manner we all have used at times.” 

“ Speak for yourself, your Excellency,” was the austere 
reply. Nevertheless, I could see that the Chevalier was 
much troubled. 

“ She forgot race, religion, people — all, to spend still 
hours with a foreign spy in prison,” urged Bigot, with 
damnable point and suggestion. 

“ Hush, sir ! ” said the Chevalier. “ She is a girl once 
much beloved and ever admired among us. Let not 
your rancour against the man be spent upon the maid. 
Nay, more, why should you hate the man so ? It is said, 
your Excellency, that this Moray did not fire the shot 


THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN. 


303 


that wounded you, but one who has less reason to love 
you.” 

Bigot smiled wickedly, but said nothing. 

The Chevalier laid a hand on Bigot’s arm. “ Will 
you not oppose the Governor and the bishop ? Her fate 
is sad enough.” 

“ I will not lift a finger. There are weightier mat^ 
ters. Let Doltaire, the idler, the Don Amato, the hunter 
of that fawn, save her from the holy ambush. Tut, tut, 
Chevalier. Let her go. Your nephew is to marry her 
sister ; let her be swallowed up — a shame behind the 
veil, the sweet litany of the cloister.” 

The Chevalier’s voice set hard as he said in quick 
reply, “ My family honour, Fran9ois Bigot, needs no 
screen. And if you doubt that, I will give you argument 
at your pleasure.” So saying, he turned and went back 
into the chateau. 

Thus the honest Chevalier kept his word, given to me 
when I released him from serving me on the St. Law- 
rence. 

Bigot came down the steps, smiling detestably, and 
passed me with no more than a quick look. I made my 
way cautiously through the streets towards the cathedral, 
for I owed a duty to the poor soldier who had died in my 
arms, through whose death I had been able to enter the 
town. 

Disarray and ruin met my sight at every hand. Shot 
and shell had made wicked havoc. Houses where, as a 
hostage, I had dined, were battered and broken ; public 
buildings were shapeless masses, and dogs and thieves 
prowled among the ruins. Drunken soldiers staggered 
past me ; hags begged for sous oi> bread at corners ; and 
devoted priests and long-robed Recollet monks, cowled 
and alert, hurried past, silent, and worn with labours, 
watchings, and prayers. A number of officers in white 


304 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


uniforms rode by, going towards the chdteau, and a com- 
pany of coureurs de bois came up from Mountain Street, 
singing : 

“ Oiron^ giran ! le canon grand — 

Commencez-vous, commencez-vous / ” 

Here and there were fires lighted in the streets, though 
it was not cold, and beside them peasants and soldiers 
drank, and quarrelled over food — for starvation was abroad 
in the land. 

By one of these fires, in a secluded street — for I had 
come a roundabout way — were a number of soldiers of 
Languedoc’s regiment (I knew them by their trick of 
headgear and their stoutness), and with them reckless 
girls, who, in their abandonment, seemed to me like those 
revellers in Herculaneum who danced their way into the 
Cimmerian darkness. I had no thought of staying there 
to moralize upon the theme ; but, as I looked, a figure 
came out of the dusk ahead and moved swiftly to- 
wards me. 

It was Mathilde. She seemed bent on some errand, 
but the revellers at the fire caugl]| her attention, and she 
suddenly' swerved towards them and came into the dull 
glow, her great black eyes shining with bewildered bril- 
liancy and vague keenness, her long fingers reaching out 
with a sort of chafing motion. She did not speak till she 
was among them. I drew into the shade of a broken wall, 
and watched. She looked all round the circle, and then, 
without a word, took an iron crucifix which hung upon 
her breast and silently lifted it above their heads for a 
moment. I myself felt a kind of thrill go through me, 
for her wild beauty was almost tragical. Her madness 
was not grotesque, but solemn and dramatic. There was 
something terribly deliberate in her strangeness ; it was 
full of awe to the beholder, more searching and pitiful 
than melancholy. 


THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN. 


305 


Coarse hands fell away from wanton waists ; ribaldry 
hesitated ; hot faces drew apart ; and all at once a girl 
with a crackling laugh threw a tin cup of liquor into the 
fire. Even as she did it, a wretched dwarf sprang into 
the circle without a word, and, snatching the cup out of 
the flames, jumped back again into the darkness, peer- 
ing into it with a hollow laugh. A soldier raised a heavy 
stick to throw at him; but the girl caught him by the 
arms, and said, with a hoarse pathos, “ My God, no, Al- 
phonse ! It is my brother ! ” 

Here Mathilde, still holding out the cross, said in a 
loud whisper, “ ’Sh, ’sh ! My children, go not to the 
palace, for there is Fran9ois Bigot, and he has a devil. 
But if you have no cottage, I will give you a home. I 
know the way to it up in the hills. Poor children, 
see, I will make you happy.” 

She took a dozen little wooden crosses from her 
girdle, and, stepping round the circle, gave each person 
one. No soldier refused, save a young militiaman ; and 
when, with a sneering laugh, he threw his into the fire, 
she stooped over him arfd said, “ Poor boy ! poor boy ! ” 

She put her fingers on her lips and whispered, Beati 
immaculati — miserere mei^ Deus^"' stray phrases gathered 
from the liturgy, pregnant to her brain, order and truth 
flashing out of wandering and fantasy. No one of the 
girls refused, but sat there, some laughing nervously, 
some silent ; for this mad maid had come to be sur- 
rounded with a superstitious reverence in the eyes of the 
common people. It was said she had a home in the hills 
somewhere, to which she disappeared for days and weeks, 
and came back hung about the girdle with crosses ; and 
it was also said that her red robe never became frayed, 
shabby, or disordered. 

Suddenly she turned and left them. I let her pass 
unchecked, and went on towards the cathedral, humming 


306 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


an old French chanson. I did this because now and then 
I met soldiers and patrols, and my free and careless man- 
ner disarmed notice. Once or twice drunken soldiers 
stopped me and threw their arms about me, saluting 
me on the cheeks a la mode^ asking themselves to 
drink with me. Getting free of them, 1 came on my way, 
and was glad to reach the cathedral unchallenged. Here 
and there a broken buttress or a splintered wall told 
where our guns had played upon it, but inside I could 
hear an organ playing and a Miserere being chanted. I 
went round to its rear, and there I saw the little house 
described by the sentinel at the chateau. Coming to the 
door, I knocked, and it was opened at once by a warm- 
faced woman of thirty or so, who instantly brightened on 
seeing me. “Ah, you come from Cap Kouge, m’sieu’,’’ 
she said, looking at my clothes — her own husband’s, 
though she knew it not. 

“ I come from Jean,” said I, and stepped inside. 

She shut the door, and then I saw sitting in a corner, 
hy a lighted table, an old man, bowed and shrunken, 
white hair and white beard falling all about him, and 
nothing of his features tp be seen save high cheek-bones 
and two hawklike eyes which peered up at me. 

“So, so, from Jean,” he said in a high, piping voice. 
“Jean’s a pretty boy— ay, ay, Jean’s like his father, but 
neither with a foot like mine — a foot for the court, 
said Frontenac to me— yes, yes, I knew the great Fron- 
tenac ” 

The wife interrupted his gossip. “ What news from 
Jean?” said she. “He hoped to come one day this 
week.” 

“He says,” responded I gently, “that Jacques Do- 
brotte owes you ten francs and a leg of mutton, and that 
you are to give his great beaver coat to Gabord the sol- 
dier.” 


THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN. 307 

“ Ay, ay, Gabord the soldier, he that the English spy 
near sent to heaven,” quavered the old man. 

The bitter truth was slowly dawning upon the wife. 
She was repeating my words in a whisper, as if to grasp 
their full meaning. 

“ He said also,” I continued, “ ‘ Tell Babette I weep 
with her.’ ” 

She was very still and dazed ; her fingers went to her 
white lips, and stayed there for a moment. I never saw 
such a numb misery in any face. 

“ And, last of all, he said, ‘ Ali^ mon grand liomme de 
Calvaire — hon soir ! ’ ” 

She turned round and went and sat down beside the 
old man, looked into his face for a minute silently, and 
then said, “Grandfather, Jean is dead; our Jean is 
dead ! ” 

The old man peered at her for a moment, then broke 
into a strange laugh, which had in it the refiection of a 
distant misery, and said, “ Our little Jean, our little Jean 
Labrouk ! Ha ! ha ! There was Villon, Marmon, Ga- 
briel, and Gouloir, and all their sons ; and they all said 
the same at the last, ‘ Mon grand liomme — de Calvaire — 
hon soir!"* Then there was little Jean, the pretty little 
Jean. He could not row a boat, but he could ride a 
horse, and he had an eye like me. Ha ! ha ! I have seen 
them all say good-night. Good-morning, my children, 
I will say one day, and I will give them all the news, and 
I well tell them all I have done these hundred years. Ha, 
ha, ha ! ” 

The wife put her fingers on his lips, and, turning to 
me, said with a peculiar sorrow, “ Will they fetch him to 
me?” 

I assured her that they would. 

The old man fixed his eyes on me most strangely, and 
then, stretching out his finger and leaning forward, he 


308 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


said, with a voice of senile wildness, “ Ah, ah, the coat of 
our little Jean ! ” 

I stood there like any criminal caught in his shame- 
ful act. Though I had not forgotten that I wore the dead 
man’s clothes, I could not think that they would he rec- 
ognized, for they seemed like others of the French army 
— white, with violet facings. I can not tell to this day 
what it was that enabled them to detect the coat; but 
there I stood condemned before them. 

The wife sprang to her feet, came to me with a set 
face, and stared stonily at the coat for an instant. Then, 
with a cry of alarm, she made for the door ; but I stepped 
quickly before her, and bade her wait till she heard what 
I had to say. Like lightning it all went through my 
brain. I was ruined if she gave an alarm : all Quebec 
would be at my heels, and my purposes would be defeated. 
There was but one thing to do — tell her the whole truth, 
and trust her ; for I had at least done fairly by her and 
by the dead man. 

So I told them how Jean Labrouk had met his death ; 
told them who I was and why I was in Quebec — how Jean 
died in my arms ; and, taking from my breast the cross 
that Mathilde had given me, 1 swore by it that every word 
which I said was true. The wife scarcely stirred while I 
spoke, but with wide dry eyes, and hands clasping and 
unclasping, heard me through. I told her how I might 
have left Jean to die without a sign or message to them, 
how I had put the cross to his lips as he went forth, and 
how by coming here at all I placed my safety in her hands, 
and now, by telling my story, my life itself. 

It was a daring and a difficult task. * When I had fin- 
ished, both sat silent for a moment, and then the old man 
said, “ Ay, ay, Jean’s father and his uncle Marmon were 
killed a-horseback, and by the knife. Ay, ay, it is our 
way. Jean was good company — none better, mass over 


THE SACRED COUNTERSIGN. 


309 


on a Sunday. Come, we will light candles for Jean, 
and comb his hair back sweet, and masses shall be said, 
and ” 

Again the woman interrupted, quieting him. Then 
she turned to me, and I awaited her words with a desper- 
ate sort of courage. 

“ I believe you,” she said. “ I remember you now. 
My sister was the wife of your keeper at the common jail. 
You shall be safe. Alas ! my Jean might have died with- 
out a word to me — all alone in the night. Merci mille 
fois, monsieur ! ” Then she rocked a little to and fro, 
and the old man looked at her like a curious child. At 
last, “ I must go to him,” she said. “ My poor Jean must 
be brought home.” 

I told her I had already left word concerning the body 
at headquarters. She thanked me again. Overcome as 
she was, she went and brought me a peasant’s hat and 
coat. Such trust and kindness touched me. Trembling, 
she took from me the coat and hat I had worn, and she 
put her hands before her eyes when she saw a little spot 
of blood upon the flap of a pocket. The old man reached 
out his hands, and, taking them, he held them on his 
knees, whispering to himself. 

“ You will be safe here,” the wife said to me. “ The 
loft above is small, but it will hide you, if you have no 
better place.” 

I was thankful that I had told her all the truth. I 
should be snug here, awaiting the aifair in the cathedral 
on the morrow. There was Voban, but I knew not of 
him, or whether he was open to aid or shelter me. His 
own safety had been long in peril ; he might be dead, for 
all I knew. I thanked the poor woman warmly, and then 
asked her if the old man might not betray me to strangers. 
She bade me leave all that to her — that I should be safe 
for a while, at least. 

21 


310 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


Soon afterwards I went abroad, and made my way by 
a devious route to Voban’s house. As I passed, I could 
see the lights of our fleet in the Basin, and the camp-fires 
of our army on the Levis shore, on the Isle of Orleans, 
and even at Montmorenci, and the myriad lights in the 
French encampment at Beauport. How impossible it all 
looked — to unseat from this high rock the Empire of 
France ! And how hard it would be to get out of this 
same city with Alixe ! 

Voban’s house stood amid a mass of ruins, itself 
broken a little, but still sound enough to live in. There 
was no light. I clambered over the debris^ made my way 
to his bedroom window, and tapped on the shutter. 
There was no response. I tried to open it, but it would 
not stir. So I thrust beneath it, on the chance of his 
finding it if he opened the casement in the morning, a 
little piece of paper, with one word upon it — the name of 
his brother. He knew my handwriting, and he would 
guess where to-morrow would find me, for I had also 
hastily drawn upon the paper the entrance of the cathe- 
dral. 

I went back to the little house by the cathedral, and 
was admitted by the stricken wife. The old man was 
abed. I climbed up to the small loft, and lay wide-awake 
for hours. At last came the sounds that I had waited 
for, and presently I knew by the tramp beneath, and by 
low laments coming through the floor, that a wife was 
mourning over the dead body of her husband. I lay long 
and listened to the varying sounds, but at last all became 
still, and I fell asleep. 


IN THE CATHEDRAL. 


311 


XXV. 

IIT THE CATHEDRAL. 

I AWOKE with the dawn, and, dressing, looked out of 
the window, seeing the brindled light spread over the 
battered roofs and ruins of the Lower Town. A bell 
was calling to prayers in the battered Jesuit College not 
far away, and bugle-calls told of the stirring garrison. 
Soldiers and stragglers passed down the streets near by 
and a few starved peasants crept about the cathedral with 
downcast eyes, eager for crumbs that a well-fed soldier 
might cast aside. Yet I knew that in the Intendant’s 
palace and among the officers of the army there was 
abundance, with revelry and dissipation. 

Presently I drew to the trap-door of my loft, and, 
raising it gently, came down the ladder to the little hall- 
way, and softly opened the door of the room where 
Labrouk’s body lay. Candles were burning at his head 
and his feet, and two peasants sat dozing in chairs near 
by. I could see Labrouk’s face plainly in the flickering 
light : a rough, wholesome face it was, reflned by death, 
yet unshaven and unkempt, too. Here was work for Vo- 
ban’s shears and razor. Presently there was a footstep 
behind me, and, turning, I saw in the half-light the wid- 
owed wife. 

“ Madame,” said I in a whisper, “ I too weep with 
you. I pray for as true an end for myself.” 

“ He was of the true faith, thank the good God,” she 
said sincerely. She passed into the room, and the two 
watchers, after taking refreshment, left the house. Sud- 
denly she hastened to the door, called one back, and, 
pointing to the body, whispered something. The peas- 
ant nodded and turned away. She came back into the 
room, stood looking at the face of the dead man for a 


312 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


moment, and bent over and kissed the' crucifix clasped 
in the cold hands. Then she stepped about the room, 
moving a chair and sweeping up a speck of dust in a 
mechanical way. Presently, as if she again remembered 
me, she asked me to enter the room. Then she bolted 
the outer door of the house. I stood looking at the body 
of her husband, and said, “ Were it not well to have 
Voban the barber ? ’’ 

“ I have sent for him and for Gabord,” she replied. 
“ Gabord was Jean’s good friend. He is with General 
Montcalm. The Governor put him in prison because of 
the marriage of Mademoiselle Duvarney, but Monsieur 
Doltaire set him free, and now he serves General Mont- 
calm. 

“ I have work in the cathedral,” continued the poor 
woman, “ and I shall go to it this morning as I have al- 
ways gone. There is a little unused closet in a gallery 
where you may hide, and still see all that happens. It is 
your last look at the lady, and I will give it to you, as 
you gave me to know of my Jean.” 

“ My last look ? ” I asked eagerly. 

“ She goes into the nunnery to-morrow, they say,” was 
the reply. “ Her marriage is to be set aside by the bishop 
to-day — in the cathedral. This is her last night to live 
as such as I — but no, she will be happier so.” 

“ Madame,” said 1, “ I am a heretic, but I listened 
when' your husband said, Mon grand homme de Cal- 
vaire^ ton soirC* Was the cross less a cross because a 
heretic put it to his lips ? Is a marriage less a marriage 
because a heretic is the husband ? Madame, yor^loved 
your Jean ; if he were living now, what would you do to 
keep him ? Think, madame, is not love more than all ? ” 

She turned to the dead body. “ J/bw Jean ! ” 
she murmured, but made no reply to me, and for many 
minutes the room was silent. At last she turned, and 


IN THE CATHEDRAL. 


313 


said, “ You must come at once, for soon the priests will 
be at the church. A little later I will bring you some 
breakfast, and you must not stir from there till I come 
to fetch you — no.” 

“ 1 wish to see Voban,” said I. 

She thought a moment. “ I will try to fetch him to 
you by-and-bye,” she said. She did not speak further, 
but finished the sentence by pointing to the body. 

Presently, hearing footsteps, she drew me into another 
little room. “ It is the grandfather,” she said. “ He 
has forgotten you already, and he must not see you 
again.” 

We saw the old man hobble into the room we had left, 
carrying in one arm Jean’s coat and hat. He stood still, 
and bowed to the body and mumbled to himself ; then 
he \^nt over and touched the hands and forehead, nod- 
ding wisely ; after which he came to his armchair, and, 
sitting down, spread the coat over his knees, put the cap 
on it, and gossipped with himself. 

“ In eild our idle fancies all return, 

The mind’s eye cradled by the open grave.” 

A moment later, the woman passed from the rear of 
the house to the vestry door of the cathedral. After a 
minute, seeing no one near, I followed, came to the front 
door, entered, and passed up a side aisle towards the choir. 
There was no one to be seen, but soon the woman came 
out of the vestry and beckoned to me nervously. I fol- 
lowed her quick movements, and was presently in a narrow 
stairway, coming, after fifty steps or so, to a sort of clois- 
ter, from which we went into a little cubiculum, or cell, 
with a wooden lattice door which opened on a small 
gallery. Through the lattices the nave and choir could 
be viewed distinctly. 

Without a word the woman turned and left me, and 


314 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


I sat down on a little stone bench and waited. I saw 
the acolytes come and go, and priests move back and 
forth before the altar ; I smelt the grateful incense as it 
rose when mass was said, and watched the people gather 
in little clusters at the different shrines, or seek the 
confessional, or kneel to receive the blessed sacrament. 
Many who came were familiar — among them Mademoi- 
selle Lucie Lotbiniere. Lucie prayed long before a 
shrine of the Virgin, and when she rose at last her 
face bore signs of weeping. Also I noticed her sud- 
denly start as she moved down the aisle, for a figure 
came forward from seclusion and touched her arm. As 
he half turned I saw that it was Juste Duvarney. The 
girl drew back from him, raising her hand as if in pro- 
test, and it struck me that her grief and her repulse of 
him had to do with putting Alixe away into a nunnery. 

I sat hungry and thirsty for quite three hours, and then 
the church became empty, and only an old verger kept 
his seat by the door, half asleep, though the artillery of 
both armies was at work, and the air was laden with the 
smell of powder. (Until this time our batteries had 
avoided firing on the churches.) At last I heard footsteps 
near me in the dark stairway, and I felt for my pistols, 
for the feet were not those of Labrouk’s wife. I waited 
anxiously, and was overjoyed to see Voban enter my hid- 
ing-place, bearing some food. I greeted him warmly, but 
tie made little demonstration. He was like one who, oc- 
cupied with some great matter, passed through the usual 
affairs of life with a distant eye. Immediately he handed 
me a letter, saying : 

“ M’sieu’, I give my word to hand you this— in a day 
or a year, as I am able. I get your message to me this 
morning, and then I come to care for Jean Labrouk, and 
so I find you here, and I give the letter. It come to me 
last night.” 


IN THE CATHEDRAL. 


315 


The letter was from Alixe. I opened it with haste, 
and in the dim light read : 

My beloved Husband : Oh, was there no power in 
earth or heaven to bring me to your arms to-day ? 

To-morrow they come to see my marriage annulled 
by the Church. And every one will say it is annulled — 
every one but me. I, in God’s name, will say no, though 
it break my heart to oppose myself to them all. 

Why did my brother come back ? He has been hard 
— 0 Robert, he has been hard upon me, and yet I was 
ever kind to him ! My father, too, he listens to the 
Church, and, though he likes not Monsieur Doltaire, he 
works for him in a hundred ways without seeing it. I, 
alas ! see it too well, and my brother is as wax in mon- 
sieur’s hands. Juste loves Lucie Lotbiniere — that should 
make him kind. She, sweet friend, does not desert me, 
but is kept from me. She says she will not yield to Juste’s 
suit until he yields to me. If — oh, if Madame Jamond 
had not gone to Montreal ! 

... As I was writing the foregoing sentence, my 
father asked to see me, and we have had a talk — ah, a 
most bitter talk ! 

“ Alixe,” said he, “ this is our last evening together, 
and I would have it peaceful.” 

“ My father,” said I, “ it is not my will that this even- 
ing be our last ; and for peace, I long for it with all my 
heart.” 

He frowned, and answered, “ You have brought me 
trouble and sorrow. Mother of God ! was it not possible 
for you to be as your sister Georgette ? I gave her less 
love, yet she honours me more.” 

“ She honours you, my father, by a sweet, good life, 
and by marriage into an honourable family, and at your 


316 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


word she gives her hand to Monsieur Auguste de la Da- 
rante. She marries to your pleasure, therefore she has 
peace and your love. I marry a man of my own choos- 
ing, a bitterly wronged gentleman, and you treat me as 
some wicked thing. Is that like a father who loves his 
child?” 

“ The wronged gentleman, as you call him, invaded 
that which is the pride of every honest gentleman,” he 
said. 

“And what is that ? ” asked I quietly, though I felt 
the blood beating at my temples. 

“ My family honour, the good name and virtue of my 
daughter.” 

I got to my feet, and looked my father in the eyes 
with an anger and a coldness that hurt me now when I 
think of it, and I said, “ I will not let you speak so to me. 
Friendless though I be, you shall not. You have the 
power to oppress me, but you shall not slander me to my 
face. Can not you leave insults to my enemies ? ” 

“I will never leave you to the insults of this mock 
marriage,” answered he, angrily also. “ Two day^ hence 
I take command of five hundred burghers, and your 
brother Juste serves with General Montcalm. There is to 
be last fighting soon between us and the English. I do 
not doubt of the result, but I may fall, and your brother 
also, and, should the English win, I will not leave you to 
him you call your husband. Therefore you shall be kept 
safe where no alien hands may reach you. The Church 
will hold you close.” 

I calmed myself again while listening to him, and I 
asked, “ Is there no other way?” 

He shook his head. 

“ Is there no Monsieur Doltaire ? ” said I. “ He has a 
king’s blood in his veins ! ” 

He looked sharply at me. “You are mocking,” he 


IN THE CATHEDRAL. 


317 


replied. “ No, no, that is no way, either. Monsieur Dol- 
taire must never mate with daughter of mine. I will take 
care of that ; the Church is a perfect if gentle jailer.” 

I could bear it no longer. I knelt to him. I begged 
him to have pity on me. I pleaded with him ; I recalled 
the days when, as a child, I sat upon his knee and listened 
to the wonderful tales he told ; I begged him, by the mem- 
ory of all the years when he and I were such true friends 
to be kind to me now, to be merciful — even though he 
thought I had done wrong — to be merciful. I asked him 
to remember that I was a motherless girl, and that if I 
had missed the way to happiness he ought not to make 
my path bitter to the end. I begged him to give me back 
his love and confidence, and, if I must for evermore be 
parted from you, to let me be with him, not to put me 
away into a convent. 

“ Oh, how my heart leaped when I saw his face soften ! 
“ Well, well,” he said, “ if I live, you shall be taken from 
the convent ; but for the present, till this fighting is over, 
it is .the only safe place. There, too, you shall be safe 
from Monsieur Doltaire.” 

It was poor comfort. ** But should you be killed, and 
the English take Quebec ? ” said I. 

“ When I am dead,” he answered, “ when I am dead, 

then there is your brother.” 

“ And if he speaks for Monsieur Doltaire?” asked I. 

“There is the Church and God always,” he an- 
swered. 

“ And my own husband, the man who saved your life, 
my father,” I urged gently; and when he would have 
spoken I threw myself into his arms— the first time in 
such long, long weeks ! — and stopping his lips with my 
fingers, burst into tears on his breast. I think much of 
his anger against me passed, yet before he left he said he 
could not now prevent the annulmeut pf the jna'iTiage, 


318 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


even if he would, for other powers were at work ; which 
powers I supposed to be the Governor, for certain reasons 
of enmity to my father and me— alas ! how changed is 
he, the vain old man !— and Monsieur Doltaire, whose 
ends I knew so well. So they will unwed us to-morrow, 
Kobert ; but be sure that I shall never be unwed in my 
own eyes, and that I will wait till I die, hoping you will 
come and take me— oh, Kobert, my husband— take me 
home ! 

If I had one hundred men I would fight my way 
out of this city, and to you ; but, dear, I have none, not 
even Gabord, who is not let come near me. There is 
but Voban. Yet he will bear you this, if it be possible, 
for he comes to-night to adorn my fashionable brother. 
The poor Mathilde I have not seen of late. She has 
vanished. When they began to keep me close, and car- 
ried me off at last into the country, where we were 
captured by the English, I could not see her, and my 
heart aches for her. 

God bless you, Robert, and farewell. How we shall 
smile when all this misery is done ! Oh, say we shall, say 
we shall smile, and all this misery cease ! Will you not 
take me home ? Do you still love thy wife, thy 

Alike ? 

I bade Voban come to me at the little house behind 
the church that night at ten o’clock, and by then I 
should have arranged some plan of action. I knew not 
whether to trust Gabord or not. I was sorry now that I 
had not tried to bring Clark with me. He was fearless, 
and he knew the town well ; but he lacked discretion, 
and that was vital. 

Two hours of waiting, then came a scene which is 
burned into my brain. I looked down upon a mass of 
people, soldiers, couriers of the woods, beggars, priests, 


IN THE CATHEDRAL. 


319 


camp followers, and anxious gentlefolk, come from seclu- 
sion, or hiding, or vigils of war, to see a host of powers 
torture a young girl who through suffering had been made 
a woman long before her time. Out in the streets was 
the tramping of armed men, together with the call of 
bugles and the sharp rattle of drums. Presently I heard 
the hoofs of many horses, and soon afterwards there 
entered the door, and way was made for him up the 
nave, the Marquis de Vaudreuil and his suite, with the 
Chevalier de la Darante, the Intendant, and — to my 
indignation — Juste Duvarney. 

They had no sooner taken their places, than from a 
little side door near the vestry there entered the Seign- 
eur Duvarney and Alixe, who, coming down slowly, took 
places very near the chancel steps. The Seigneur was 
pale and stern, and carried himself with great dignity. 
His glance never shifted from the choir, where the priests 
slowly entered and took their places, the aged and feeble 
bishop going falteringly to his throne. Alixe’s face was 
pale and sorrowful, and yet it had a dignity and self- 
reliance that gave it a kind of grandeur. A buzz passed 
through the building, yet I noted, too, with gladness, that 
there were tears on many faces. 

A figure stole in beside Alixe. It was Mademoiselle 
Lotbiniere, who immediately was followed by her mother. 
I leaned forward, perfectly hidden, and listened to the 
singsong voices of the priests, the musical note of the 
res-ponses, heard the Kyrie Eleison, the clanging of the 
belfry bell as the host was raised by the trembling bishop. 
The silence which followed the mournful voluntary played 
by the organ was most painful to me. 

At that moment a figure stepped from behind a pillar 
and gave Alixe a deep, scrutinizing look. It was Dol- 
taire. He was graver than I had ever seen him, and was 
dressed scrupulously in black, with a little white lace 


320 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


showing at the wrists and neck. A handsomer figure it 
would be hard to see ; and I hated him for it, and won- 
dered what new devilry was in his mind. He seemed to 
sweep the church with a glance. Nothing could have 
escaped that swift, searching look. His eyes were even 
raised to where I was, so that I involuntarily drew back, 
though I knew he could not see me. 

I was arrested suddenly by a curious, even sneering 
smile which played upon his face as he looked at Vau- 
dreuil and Bigot. There was in it more scorn than mal- 
ice, more triumph than active hatred. All at once I re- 
membered what he had said to me the day before : that 
he had commission from the King, through La Pompa- 
dour, to take over the reins of government from the two 
confederates, and send them to France to answer the 
charges made against them. 

At last the bishop came forward, and read from a 
paper as follows : 

“ Forasmuch as the well-heloved child of our Holy 
Churchy Mademoiselle Alixe Duvarney^ of the parish of 
Beauport and of this cathedral parish^ in this province 
of New France^ forgetting her manifest duty and our 
sacred teaching^ did illegally and in sinful error make 
feigned contract of marriage with one Robert Moray ^ 
captain in a Virginia regiment^ a heretic^ a spy^ and 
an enemy to our country ; and forasmuch as this was 
done in violence of all nice habit and commendable 
obedience to Mother Church and our national uses, we 
do hereby declare and make void this alliance until such 
time as the Holy Father at Rome shall finally approve 
our action and proclaiming. And it is enjoined upon 
Mademoiselle Alixe Duvarneg, on peril of her souVs 
salvation, to obey us in this matter, and neither by 
word or deed or thought have commerce more ivith this 
notorious and evil heretic and foe of our Church and of 


m THE CATHEDRAL. 


321 


our country. It is also the plain duty of the faithful 
children of our Holy Church to regard this Captain 
Moray with a pious hatred.^ and to destroy him with- 
out pity ; and any good cunning or enticement which 
should lure him to the punishment he so much deserves 
shall he approved. Furthermore., Mademoiselle Alixe Du- 
varney shall., until such times as there shall he peace in 
this land, and the molesting English he driven hack with 
slaughter — and for all tune, if the heart of our sister in- 
cline to penitence and love of Christ — he housed within 
the Convent of the Ursulines, and cared for with great 
tenderness?'' 

He left off reading, and began to address himself to 
Alixe directly; but she rose in her place, and while 
surprise and awe seized the congregation, she said : 

“ Monseigneur, I must, at my father’s bidding, hear 
the annulment of my marriage, but I will not hear this 
public exhortation. I am only a poor girl, unlearned in 
the law, and I must submit to your power, for I have no 
one here to speak for me. But my soul and my con- 
science I carry to my Saviour, and I have no fear to 
answer Him. I am sorry that I have offended my 
people and my country and Holy Church, but I do not 
repent that I love and hold to my husband. You must 
do with me as you will, but in this I shall never will- 
ingly yield.” 

She turned to her father, and all the people breathed 
hard ; for it passed their understanding, and seemed scan- 
dalous that a girl should thus defy the Church, and an- 
swer the bishop in his own cathedral. Her father rose, 
and then I saw her sway with faintness. I know not what 
might have occurred, for the bishop stood with hand up- 
raised and great indignation in his face, about to speak, 
when out of the desultory firing from our batteries there 
came a shell, which burst even at the cathedral entrance, 


322 the seats op the mighty. 

tore away a portion of the wall, and killed and wounded 
a number of people. 

Then followed a panic which the priests in vain tried 
to quell. The people swarmed into the choir and through 
the vestry. I saw Doltaire and Juste Duvarney spring 
swiftly to the side of Alixe, and, with her father, put her 
and Mademoiselle Lotbini^re into the pulpit, forming a 
ring round it, preventing the crowd from trampling on 
them, as, suddenly gone mad, they swarmed past. The 
Governor, the Intendant, and the Chevalier de la Darante 
did as much also for Madame Lotbiniere.; and as soon 
as the crush had subsided a little, a number of soldiers 
cleared the way, and I saw my wife led from the church. 
I longed to leap down there among them and claim her ; 
but that thought was madness, for I should have been 
food for worms in a trice ; so I kept my place. 


XXVI. 

THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY. 

That evening, at eight o’clock, Jean Labrouk was 
buried. A shell had burst not a dozen paces from his 
own door, within the consecrated ground of the cathe- 
dral, and in a hole it had made he was laid, the only 
mourners his wife and his grandfather, and two soldiers of 
his company sent by General Bougainville to bury him. I 
watched the ceremony from my loft, which had one small 
dormer window. It was dark, but burning buildings in 
the Lower Town made all li^^^ht about the place. I could 
hear the grandfather mumbling and talking to the body 
as it was lowered into the ground. While yet the priest 
was hastily reading prayers, a dusty horseman came rid- 
ing to the grave and dismounted. 


THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY. 32$ 

“Jean,” he said, looking at the grave, “ Jean Labrouk, 
a man dies well that dies with his gaiters on, aho ! . . . 
What have you said for Jean Labrouk, m’sieu’ ? ” he added 
to the priest. 

The priest stared at him, as though he had presumed. 

“ Well ? ” said Gabord. “ Well ? ” 

The priest answered nothing, but prepared to go, 
whispering a word of comfort to the poor wife. Gabord 
looked at the soldiers, looked at the wife, at the priest, 
then spread out his legs and stuck his hands down into 
his pockets, while his horse rubbed its nose against his 
shoulder. He fixed his eyes on the grave, and nodded 
once or twice musingly. 

“Well,” he said at last, as if he had found a perfect 
virtue, and the one or only thing that might be said, “ well, 
he never eat his words, that Jean ! ” 

A moment afterwards he came into the house with 
Babette, leaving one of the soldiers holding his horse. 
After the old man had gone, I heard him say, “Were you 
at mass to-day? And did you see all ? ” 

When she had answered yes, he continued : “ It was a 
mating as birds mate, but mating was it, and holy fathers 
and Master Devil Doltaire can’t change it till cock-pheas- 
ant Moray come rocketing to ’s grave. They would have 
hanged me for my part^in it, but I repent not, for they 
have wickedly hunted this little lady.” 

“ I weep with her,” said Jean’s wife. 

“ Ay, ay, weep on, Babette,” he answered. 

“ Has she asked help of you ? ” said the wife. 

“ Truly ; but I know not what she says, for I read not, 
but I know her pecking. H'u*e it is. But you must be 
secret.” 

Looking though a crack in the floor, I could plainly 
see them. She took the letter from him and read aloud : 

“ If Gabord the soldier have a good heart still, as ever 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


324 

he had in the past, he will again help a poor, friendless 
woman. She needs him, for all are against her. Will he 
leave her alone among her enemies? Will he not aid her 
to fly? At eight o’clock to-morrow night she will be 
taken to the Convent of the Ursulines, to be there shut in. 
Will he not come to her before that time ? ” 

For a moment after the reading there was silence, and 
I could see the woman looking at him curiously. “ What 
will you do?” she asked. 

“ My faith, there’s nut to crack, for I have little time. 
This letter but reached me, with the news of Jean, two 
hours ago, and I know not what to do, but, as I stand 
scratching my head, here comes word from General Mont- 
calm that I must ride to Master Devil Doltaire with a 
letter, and I must find him wherever he may be, and give 
it straight. So forth I come ; and I must be at my post 
again by morn, said the General.” 

“ It is now nine o’clock, and she will be in the con- 
vent,” said the woman tentatively. 

“ Aho ! ” he answered, “ and none can enter there but 
Governor, if holy Mother say no. So now goes Master Devil 
there ? ‘ Gabord,’ quoth he, ‘ you shall come with me to the 
convent at ten o’clock, bringing three stout soldiers of the 
garrison. Here’s an order on Monsieur Ramesay the com- 
mandant. Choose you the men, and fail me not, or you 
shall swing aloft, dear Gabord.’ Sweet lovers of hell, but 
Master Devil shall have swinging too one day.” He put 
his thumb to his nose, and spread his fingers out. 

Presently he seemed to note something in the woman’s 
eyes, for he spoke almost sharply to her : “ Jean Labrouk 
was honest man, and kept faith with comrades.” 

“ And I keep faith too, comrade,” was the answer. 

“ Gabord’s a brute to doubt you,” he rejoined quickly, 
and he drew from his pocket a piece of gold and made 
her take it, though she much resisted. 


THE SECRET OP THE TAPESTRY. 


325 


Meanwhile my mind was made up. I saw, I thought, 
through » Master Devil’s ” plan, and I felt, too, that Ga- 
bord would not betray me. In any case, Gabord and I 
could fight it out. If he opposed me, it was his life or 
mine, for too much was at stake, and all my plans were 
now changed by his astounding news. At that moment 
Voban entered the room without knocking. Here was my 
cue, and so, to prevent explanations, I crept quickly down, 
opened the door, and came in on them. 

They wheeled at my footsteps ; the woman gave a little 
cry, and Gabord’s hand went to his pistol. There was a 
wild sort of look in his face, as though he could not trust 
his eyes. I took no notice of the menacing pistol, but 
went straight to him and held out my hand. 

“ Gabord,” said I, “ you are not my jailer now.” 

“ I’ll be your guard to citadel,” said he, after a mo- 
ment’s dumb surprise, refusing my outstretched hand. 

“ Neither guard nor jailer any more, Gabord,” said I 
seriously. “ We’ve had enough of that, my friend.” 

The soldier and the jailer had been working in him, 
and his fingers trifled with the trigger. In all things he 
was the foeman first. But now something else was work- 
ing in him. I saw this, and added pointedly, “ No more 
cage, Gabord, not even for reward *of twenty thousand 
livres and at command of Holy Church.” 

He smiled grimly, too grimly, I thought, and turned 
inquiringly to Babette. In a few words she told him all, 
tears dropping from her eyes. 

“ If you take him, you betray me,” she said ; “ and 
what would Jean say, if he knew?” 

“ Gabord,” said I, “I come not as a spy; I come to 
seek my wife, and she counts you as her friend. Do harm 
to me, and you do harm to her. Serve me, and you serve 
her. Gabord, you said to her once that I was an hon- 
ourable man.” 

22 


326 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


He put up his pistol. “ Aho, you’ve put you head in 
the trap. Stir, and click goes the spring.” 

“ I must have my wife,” I continued. “ Shall the nest 
you helped to make go empty ? ” 

I worked upon him to such purpose that, all bristling 
with war at first, he was shortly won over to my scheme, 
which I disclosed to him while the wife made us a cup 
of coffee. Through all our talk Voban had sat eying us 
with a covert interest, yet showing no excitement. He 
had been unable to reach Alixe. She had been taken to 
the convent, and immediately afterwards her father and 
brother had gone their ways — Juste to General Montcalm, 
and the Seigneur to the French camp. Thus Alixe did 
not know that I was in Quebec. 

An hour after this I was marching, with two other 
men and Gabord, to the Convent of the Ursulines, dressed 
in the ordinary costume of a French soldier, got from the 
wife of Jean Labrouk. In manner and speech though I 
was somewhat dull, my fellows thought, I was enough like 
a peasant soldier to deceive them, and my French was 
more fiuent than their own. I was playing a desperate 
game ; yet I liked it, for it had a fine spice of adventure 
apart from the great matter at stake. If I could but 
carry it off, I should have sufficient compensation for all 
my miseries, in spite of their twenty thousand livres and 
Holy Church. 

In a few minutes we came to the convent, and halted 
outside, waiting for Holtaire. Presently he came, and, 
looking sharply at us all, he ordered two to wait outside, 
and Gabord and myself to come with him. Then he 
stood looking at the building curiously for a moment. 
A shell had broken one wing of it, and this portion had 
been abandoned; but the faithful Sisters clung still to 
their home, though urged constantly by the Governor to 
retire to the Hotel-Dieu, which was outside the reach of 


THE SECRET OP THE TAPESTRY. 327 

shot and shell. This it was their intention soon to do, 
for within the past day or so our batteries had not sought 
to spare the convent. As Doltaire looked he laughed to 
himself, and then said, “ Too quiet for gay spirits, this 
hearse. Come, Gabord, and fetch this slouching fellow,” 
nodding towards me. 

Then he knocked loudly. No one came, and he 
knocked again and again. At last the door was opened 
by the Mother Superior, who was attended by two others. 
She started at seeing Doltaire. 

“ What do you wish, monsieur ? ” she asked. 

“ I come on business of the King, good Mother,” he 
replied seriously, and stepped inside. 

“ It is a strange hour for business,” she said severely. 

“ The King may come at all hours,” he answered 
soothingly : “ is it not so ? By the law he may enter when 
he wills.” 

“ You are not the King, monsieur,” she objected, with 
her head held up sedately. 

“ Or the Governor may come, good Mother ? ” 

“ You are not the Governor, Monsieur Doltaire,” she 
said, more sharply still. 

“ But a Governor may demand admittance to this con- 
vent, and by the order of his Most Christian Majesty he 
may not be refused ; is it not so ? ” 

“ Must I answer the catechism of Monsieur Doltaire? ” 

“ But is it not so ? ” he asked again urbanely. 

“ It is so, yet how does that concern you, monsieur?” 

“ In every way,” and he smiled. 

“This is unseemly, monsieur. What is your busi- 
ness ? ” 

“ The Governor’s business, good Mother.” 

“ Then let the Governor’s messenger give his message 
and depart in peace,” she answered, her hand upon the 
door. 


328 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


“ Not the Governor’s messenger, but the Governor him- 
self,” he rejoined gravely. 

He turned and was about to shut the door, but she 
stopped him. “ This is no house for jesting, monsieur,” 
she said. “ I will arouse the town if you persist. — Sister,” 
she added to one standing near, “ the bell ! ” 

“ You fill your ofiice with great dignity and merit, 
M^re St. George,” he said, as he put out his hand and 
stayed the Sister. “ I commend you for your discretion. 
Bead this,” he continued, handing her a paper. 

A Sister held a light, and the Mother read it. As 
she did so Doltaire made a motion to Gabord, and he 
shut the door quickly on us. M6re St. George looked 
up from the paper, startled and frightened too. 

“ Your Excellency ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ You are the first to call me so,” he replied. “ I 
thought to leave untouched this good gift of the King, 
and to let the Marquis de Vaudreuil and the admirable 
Bigot untwist the coil they have made. But no. After 
some too generous misgivings, I now claim my own. I 
could not enter here, to speak with a certain lady, save 
as the Governor, but as the Governor I now ask speech 
with Mademoiselle Duvarney. Do you hesitate ? ” he 
added. “ Do you doubt that signature of his Majesty ? 
Then see this. Here is a line from the Marquis de 
Vaudreuil, the late Governor. It is not dignified, one 
might say it is craven, but it is genuine.” 

Again the distressed lady read, and again she said, 
“ Your Excellency ! ” Then, “ You wish to see her in my 
presence, your Excellency ? ” 

“ Alone, good Mother,” he softly answered. 

“ Your Excellency, will you, the first officer in the 
land, defy our holy rules, and rob us of our privilege to 
protect and comfort and save ? ” 

“ I defy nothing,” he replied. “ The lady is here 


THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY. 329 

against her will, a prisoner. She does not desire your 
governance and care. In any case, I must speak with 
her ; and be assured, I honour you the more for your 
solicitude, and will ask your counsel when I have finished 
talk with her.” 

Was ever man so crafty? After a moment’s thought 
she turned, dismissed the others, and led the way, and 
Gabord and I followed. We were bidden to wait out- 
side a room, well lighted but bare, as I could see through 
the open door. Doltaire entered, smiling, and then 
bowed the nun on her way to summon Alixe. Gabord 
and I stood there, not speaking, for both were thinking 
of the dangerous game now playing. In a few minutes 
the Mother returned, bringing Alixe. The light from 
the open door shone upon her face. My heart leaped, 
for there was in her look such a deep sorrow. She was 
calm, save for those shining yet steady eyes ; they were 
like furnaces, burning up the colour of her cheeks. She 
wore a soft black gown, with no sign of ornament, and 
her gold-brown hair was bound with a piece of black 
velvet ribbon. Her beauty was deeper than I had ever 
seen it ; a peculiar gravity seemed to have added years 
to her life. Passing me her sleeve brushed my arm, as it 
did that day I was arrested in her father’s house. She 
started, as though I had touched her fingers, but she only 
half turned toward me, for her mind was wholly occupied 
with the room where Doltaire was. 

At that moment Gabord coughed slightly, and she 
turned quickly to him. Her eyes flashed intelligence, 
and presently, as she passed in, a sort of hope seemed 
to have come on her face to lighten its painful pensive- 
ness. The Mother Superior entered with her, the door 
closed, and then, after a little, the Mother came out 
again. As she did so I saw a look of immediate pur- 
pose in her face, and her hurrying step persuaded me 


330 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


she was bent on some project of espial. So I made a 
sign to Gabord and followed her. As she turned the 
corner of the hallway just beyond, I stepped forward 
silently and watched her enter a room that would, I 
knew, be next to this we guarded. 

Listening at the door for a moment, I suddenly and 
softly turned the handle and entered, to see the good 
Mother with a panel drawn in the wall before her and 
her face set to it. She stepped back as I shut the door 
and turned the key in the lock. I put my finger to my 
lips, for she seemed about to cry out. 

“ Hush ! ” said I. “ I watch for those who love her. 
I am here to serve her — and you.” 

“ You are a servant of the Seigneur’s ? ” she said, the 
alarm passing out of her face. 

“ I served the Seigneur, good Mother,” I answered, 
“ and I would lay down my life for ma’m’selle.” 

“You would hear?” she asked, pointing to the 
panel. 

I nodded. 

“ You speak French not like a Breton or a Norman,” 
she added. “ What is your province ? ” 

“ I am an Auvergnian.” 

She said no more, but motioned to me, enjoining 
silence also by a sign, and I stood with her beside the 
panel. Before it was a piece of tapestry which was mere 
gauze in one place, and I could see through and hear 
perfectly. The room we were in was at least four feet 
higher than the other, and we looked down on its occu- 
pants. 

“ Presently, holy Mother,” said I, “ all shall be told 
true to you, if you wish it. It is not your will to watch 
and hear; it is because you love the lady. But I love 
her too, and I am to be trusted. It is not business for 
such as you.” 


THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY. 331 

She saw my implied rebuke, and said, as I thought a 
little abashed, “ You will tell me all ? And if he would 
take her forth, give me alarm in the room opposite yon- 
der door, and stay them, and ” 

“ Stay them, holy Mother, at the price of my life ! I 
have the honour of her family in my hands.” 

She looked at me gravely, and I assumed a peasant 
openness of look. She was deceived completely, and, 
without further speech, she stepped to the door like a 
ghost and was gone. 1 never saw a human being so 
noiseless, so uncanny. Our talk had been carried on 
silently, and I had closed the panel quietly, so that we 
could not be heard by Alixe or Doltaire. Now 1 was 
alone, to see and hear my wife in speech with my enemy, 
the man who had made a strong, and was yet to make a 
stronger, fight to unseat me in her affections. 

There was a moment’s compunction, in which I hesi- 
tated to see this meeting ; but there was Alixe’s safety 
to be thought on, and what might he not here disclose 
of his intentions ! — knowing which, I should act with 
judgment, and not in the dark. I trusted Alixe, though 
I knew well that this hour would see the great struggle 
in her between this scoundrel and myself. I knew that 
he had ever had a sort of power over her, even while 
she loathed his character ; that he had a hundred graces 
I had not, place which I had not, an intellect that ever 
delighted me, and a will of iron when it was called into 
action. I thought for one moment longer ere I moved 
the panel. My lips closed tight, and I felt a pang at my 
heart. 

Suppose, in this conflict, this singular man, acting on 
a nature already tried beyond reason, should bend it to 
his will, to which it was in some radical ways inclined ? 
Well, if that should be, then I would go forth and never 
see her more. She must make her choice out of her own 


332 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


heart and spirit, and fight this fight alone, and having 
fought, and lost or won, the result should be final, should 
stand, though she was my wife and I was bound in 
honour to protect her from all that might invade her 
loyalty, to cherish her through all temptation and dis- 
tress. But our case was a strange one, and it must be 
dealt with according to its strangeness — our only guides 
our consciences. There were no precedents to meet our 
needs ; our way had to be hewn out of a noisome, path- 
less wood. I made up my mind : I would hear and note 
all. So 1 slid the panel softly, and put my eyes to the 
tapestry. How many times did I see, in the next hour, 
my wife’s eyes upraised to this very tapestry, as if appeal- 
ing to the face of Madonna upon it ! How many times 
did her eyes look into mine without knowing it ! And 
more than once Doltaire followed her glance, and a faint 
smile passed over his face, as if he saw and was interested 
in the struggle in her, apart from his own passion and 
desires. 

When first I looked in, she was standing near a tall, 
high-backed chair, in almost the same position as on the 
day when Doltaire told me of Braddock’s death, accused 
me of being a spy, and arrested me. It gave me, too, a 
thrill to see her raise her handkerchief to her mouth as if 
to stop a cry, as she had done then, the black sleeve fall- 
ing away from her perfect rounded arm, now looking 
almost like marble against the lace. She held her hand- 
kerchief to her lips for quite a minute; and indeed it 
covered more than a little of her face, so that the features 
most showing were her eyes, gazing at Doltaire with a 
look hard to interpret, for there seemed in it trouble, en- 
treaty, wonder, resistance, and a great sorrow— no fear, 
trepidation, or indirectness. 

His disturbing words were these: “To-night I am 
the Governor of this country. You once doubted my 


THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY. 


333 


power* — that was when you would save your lover from 
death. I proved it in that small thing— I saved him. 
Well, when you saw me carried off to the Bastile— it 
looked like that — my power seemed to vanish : is it not 
so? We have talked, of this before, but now is a time to 
review all things again. And once more I say I am the 
Governor of New France. I have had the commission in 
my hands ever since I came back. But I have spoken of 
it to no one — except your lover ! ” 

“ My husband ! ” she said steadily, crushing the hand- 
kerchief in her hand, which now rested upon the chair- 
arm. 

“Well, well, your husband — after a fashion. I did 
not care to use this as an argument. I chose to win you 
by personal means alone, to have you give yourself to 
Tinoir Doltaire because you set him before any other 
man. I am vain, you see ; but then vanity is no sin when 
one has fine aspirations ; and I aspire to you ! ” 

She made a motion with her hand. “ Oh, can you not 
spare me this to-day — of all days in my life — your Excel- 
lency?” 

“ Let it be plain ‘ monsieur,’ ” he answered. “ I can 
not spare you, for this day decides all. As I said, I de- 
sired you. At first my wish was to possess you at any 
cost : I was your hunter only. I am still your hunter, but 
in a different way. I would rather have you in my arms 
than save New France ; and with Montcalm I could save 
it. Vaudreuil is a blunderer and a fool ; he has sold the 
country. But what ambition is that ? New France may 
come and go, and be forgotten, and you and I be none the 
worse. There are other provinces to conquer. But for 
me there is only one province, and I will lift my standard 
there, and build the grand chdteau of my happiness there. 
That is my hope, and that is why I come to conquer it 
and not the English. Let the English go — all save one, 


334 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


and he must die. Already he is dead ; he died to-day at 
the altar of the cathedral ” 

“ No, no, no ! ” broke in Alixe, her Toice low and 
firm. 

“ But yes,” he said ; “ but yes, he is dead to you for- 
ever. The Church has said so; the state says so; your 
people say so ; race and all manner of good custom say 
so ; and I, who love you better — yes, a hundred times better 
— than he, say so.” 

She made a hasty, deprecating gesture with her hand. 
“ Oh, carry this old song elsewhere,” she said, “ for I am 
sick of it.” There were now both scorn and weariness in 
her tone. 

He had a singular patience, and he resented nothing. 
I understand,” he went on, “ what it was sent your heart 
his way. He came to you when you were yet a child, be- 
fore you had learned the first secret of life. He was a cap- 
tive, a prisoner, he had a wound got in fair fighting, and 
will do him the credit to say he was an honest man ; he 
Vas no spy.” 

She looked up at him with a slight flush, almost of 
gratitude. “ I know that well,” she returned. “ I knew 
there was other cause than spying at the base of all ill 
treaftment of him. I know that you, you alone, kept him 
prisoner here six long years.” 

“Not I ; the Grande Marquise — for weighty reasons. 
You should not fret at those five years, since it gave you 
what you have cherished so much, a husband — after a 
fashion. But yet we will do him justice : he is an honour- 
able fighter, he has parts and graces of a rude order. But 
he will never go far in life ; he has no instincts and habits 
common with you; it has been, so far, a compromise, 
founded upon the old-fashioned romance of ill-used cap- 
tive and soft-hearted maid; the compassion, too, of the 
superior for the low, the free for the caged.” 


THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY. 


335 


“ Compassion such as your Excellency feels for me, no 
doubt,” she said, with a slow pride. 

“ You are caged, but you may be free,” he rejoined 
meaningly. 

“ Yes, in the same market open to him, and at the 
same price of honour,” she replied, with dignity. 

“ Will you not sit down?” he now said, motioning her 
to a chair politely, and taking one himself, thus pausing 
before he answered her. 

I was prepared to see him keep a decorous distance 
from her. I felt that he was acting upon deliberation ; 
that he was trusting to the power of his insinuating ad- 
dress, his sophistry, to break down barriers. It was as if 
he knew himself at greater advantage, making no emo- 
tional demonstrations; so allaying her fears, giving her 
time to think ; for it was clear he hoped to master her 
intelligence, so strong a part of her. 

She sat down in the high-backed chair, and I noted 
at the moment that our batteries began to play upoi#, 
the town— an unusual thing at night. It gave me a 
strange feeling — the perfect stillness of the holy place, 
the quiet movement of this tragedy before me, on which 
broke, with no modifying noises or turmoil, the shout- 
ing cannonade. Nature, it would have seemed, 'had 
forged a mood in keeping with the time, for there was 
no air stirring when we came in, and a strange still- 
ness had come upon the landscape. In the pause, too, I 
heard a long, soft shuffling of feet in the corridor — the 
evening procession from the chapel — and a slow chant : 

“/ am set down in a wilderness^ 0 Lord^ I am alone. 
If a strange voice ~call^ 0 teach me what to say ; if I lan- 
guish^ 0 give me Thy cup to drink ; 0 strengthen Thou 
my soul. Lord, I am like a sparrow far from home ; 0 
bring me to Thine honourable house. Preserve my heart, 
encourage me, according to Thy truth,^'* 


336 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


The words came to us distinctly yet distantly, swelled 
softly, and died away, leaving Alixe and Doltaire seated 
and looking at each other. Alixe ’s hands were clasped in 
her lap. 

“ Your honour is above all price,” he said at last in 
reply to her latest words. “ But what is honour in this case 
of yours, in which I throw the whole interest of my life, 
stake all ? For I am convinced that, losing, the book of 
fate will close for me. Winning, I shall begin again, and 
play a part in France which men shall speak of when I am 
done with all. I never had ambition for myself ; for you, 
Alixe Duvarney, a new spirit lives in me. ... I will be 
honest with you. At first I swore to cool my hot face in 
your bosom ; and I would have done that at any price, and 
yet I would have stood by that same dishonour honourably 
to the end. Never in my whole life did I put my whole 
heart in any — episode — of admiration : I own it, for you to 
think what you will. There never was a woman whom, 
loving to-day ” — he smiled — “ I could not leave to-morrow 
with no more than a pleasing kind of regret. Names that 
I ought to have recalled I forgot; incidents were cloucl}^ 
like childish remembrances. I was not proud of it ; the 
peasant in me spoke against it sometimes. I even have 
wished that I, half peasant, had been ” 

“ If only you had been all peasant, this war, this 
misery of mine had never been,” she interrupted. 

He nodded with an almost boyish candour. “ Yes, yes, 
but I was half prince also ; I had been brought up, one 
foot in a cottage and another in a palace. But for your 
misery : is it, then, misery ? Need it be so ? But lift 
your finger, and all will be well. Do you wish to save 
your country? Would that be compensation? Then I 
will show you the way. We have three times as many 
soldiers as the English, though of poorer stuff. We 
could hold this place, could defeat them, if we were 


THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY. 


337 


united and had but two thousand men. We have fifteen 
thousand. As it is now, Vaudreuil baulks Montcalm, 
and that will ruin us in the end unless you make it 
otherwise. You would be a patriot ? Then shut out 
forever this English captain from your heart, and open 
its doors to me. To-morrow I will take Vaudreuil’s place, 
put your father in Bigot’s, your brother in Ramesay’s — 
they are both perfect and capable ; I will strengthen the 
excellent Montcalm’s hands in every way, will inspire the 
people, and cause the English to raise this siege. You 
and I will do this : the Church will bless us, the state 
will thank us ; your home and country will be safe and 
happy, your father and brother honoured. This, and 
far, far greater things I will do for your sake.” 

He paused. He had spoken with a deep power, such 
as I knew he could use, and I did not wonder that she 
paled a little, even trembled before it. 

“ Will you not do it for France ? ” she said. 

“ I will not do it for France,” he answered. “ I will 
do it for you alone. Will you not be your country’s 
friend ? It is no virtue in me to plead patriotism — it 
is a mere argument, a weapon that I use ; but my heart 
is behind it, and it is a means to that which you will 
thank me for one day. 1 would not force you to any- 
thing, but I would persuade your reason, question your 
foolish loyalty to a girl’s mistake. Can you think that 
you are right ? You have no friend that commends your 
cause ; the whole country has upbraided you, the Church 
has cut you off from the man. All is against reunion 
with him, and most of all your own honour. Come 
with me, and be commended and blessed here, while 
over in France homage shall be done you. For you I 
will take from His Majesty the dukedom which he has 
offered me more than once.” 

Suddenly with a passionate tone, he continued : “Your 


338 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


own heart is speaking for me. Have I not seen you 
tremble when I came near you ? ” 

He rose and came forward a step or two. “ You 
thought it was fear of me. It was fear, but fear of 
that in you which was pleading for me, while you had 
sworn yourself away to him who knows not and can 
never know how to love you, who has nothing kin with 
you in mind or heart — an alien of poor fortune and 
poorer birth and prospects.” 

He fixed his eyes upon her, and went on, speaking 
with forceful quietness : “ Had there been cut away that 
mistaken sense of duty to him, which I admire unspeak- 
ably — yes, though it is misplaced — you and I would have 
come to each other’s arms long ago. Here in your atmos- 
phere I feel myself possessed, endowed. I come close to 
you, and something new in me cries out simply, ‘ I love 
you, Alixe, I love you ! ’ See, all the damnable part of 
me is burned up by the fire of your eyes ; I stand upon 
the ashes, and swear that I can not live without you. 
Come — come ” 

He stepped nearer still, and she rose like one who 
moves under some fascination, and I almost cried out, 
for in that moment she was his, his — I felt it ; he pos- 
sessed her like some spirit ; and I understood it, for the 
devilish golden beauty of his voice was like music, and 
he had spoken with great skill. 

“ Come,” he said, “ and know where all along your 
love has lain. That other way is only darkness — the 
convent, which will keep you buried, while you will 
never have heart for the piteous seclusion, till your life 
is broken all to pieces; till you have no hope, no de- 
sire, no love ; and at last, under a cowl, you look out 
upon the world, and, with a dead heart, see it as in a 
pale dream, and die at last : you, born to be a wife, 
without a husband; endowed to be the perfect mother, 


THE SECRET OP THE TAPESTRY. 


339 


without a child ; to be the admired of princes, a moving, 
powerful figure to influence great men, with no salon 
but the little bare cell where you pray. With me, all 
that you should be you will be. You have had a bad, 
dark dream ; wake, and come into the sun with me. 
Once I wished for you as the lover only ; now, by every 
hope I ever might have had, I want you for my wife.” 

He held out his arms to her and smiled, and spoke 
one or two low words which I could not hear. I had 
stood waiting death against the citadel wall, with the 
chance of a reprieve hanging between uplifted muskets 
and my breast ; but that suspense was less than this, for 
I saw him, not moving, but standing there waiting for 
her, the warmth of his devilish eloquence about him, 
and she moving toward him. 

“ My darling,” I heard him say, “ come, till death . . . 
us do part, and let no man put asunder.” 

She paused, and, waking from the dream, drew herself 
together, as though something at her breast hurt her, 
and she repeated his words like one dazed — “ ‘ Let no 
man put asunder ’ ! ” 

With a look that told of her great struggle, she 
moved to a shrine of the Virgin in the corner, and, clasp- 
ing her hands before her breast for a moment, said 
something I could not hear, before she turned to Dol- 
taire, who had now taken another step towards her. 
By his look I knew that he felt his spell was broken ; 
that his auspicious moment had passed ; that now, if he 
won her, it must be by harsh means. 

For she said : “ Monsieur Doltaire, you have defeated 
yourself. ‘ Let no man put asunder ’ was my response to 
my husband’s ‘ Whom God hath joined,’ when last I met 
him face to face. Nothing can alter that while he lives, 
nor yet when he dies, for I have had such a sorrowful 
happiness in him that if I were sure he were dead I 


340 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


would never leave this holy place — never ! But he lives, 
and I will keep my vow. Holy Church has parted us, 
but yet we are not parted. You say that to think of him 
now is wrong, reflects upon me. I tell you, monsieur, 
that if it were a wrong a thousand times greater I would 
do it. To me there can be no shame in following, till I 
die, the man who took me honourably for his wife.” 

He made an impatient gesture and smiled ironically. 

“ Oh, I care not what you say or think,” she went on. 
“ I know not of things canonical and legal ; the way 
that I was married to him is valid in his country and 
for his people. Bad Catholic you call me, alas ! But 
I am a true wife, who, if she sinned, sinned not know- 
ingly, and deserves not this tyranny and shame.” 

“ You are possessed with a sad infatuation,” he replied 
persuasively. “ You are not the first who has suffered 
so. It will pass, and leave you sane — leave you to me. 
For you are mine ; what you felt a moment ago you 
will feel again, when this romantic martyrdom of yours 
has wearied you.” 

“ Monsieur Doltaire,” she said, with a successful effort 
at calmness, though I could see her trembling too, “ it is 
you who are mistaken, and I will show you how. But 
first: You have said often that I have unusual intelli- 
gence. You have flattered me in that, I doubt not, but 
still here is a chance to prove yourself sincere. I shall 
pass by every wicked means that you took first to ruin 
me, to divert me to a dishonest love (though I know not 
what you meant at the time), and, failing, to make me 
your wife. I shall not refer to this base means to reach 
me in this sacred place, using the King’s commission for 
such a purpose.” 

“ I would use it again, and do more, for the same ends,” 
he rejoined, with shameless candour. 

She waved her hand impatiently. “ I pass all that by. 


THE SECRET OP THE TAPESTRY. 


341 


You shall listen to me as I have listened to you, remem- 
bering that what I say is honest, if it has not your grace 
and eloquence. You say that I will yet come to you, that 
I care for you and have cared for you always, and that — 
that this other — is a sad infatuation. Monsieur, in part 
you are right.” 

He came another step forward, for he thought he saw 
a foothold again ; but she drew back to the chair, and 
said, lifting her hand against him, “ Ho, no, wait till I 
have done. I say that you are right in part. I will not 
deny that, against my will, you have always influenced 
me ; that, try as I would, your presence moved me, and I 
could never put you out of my mind, out of my life. At 
first I did not understand it, for I knew how bad you were. 
I was sure you did evil because you loved it ; that, to 
gratify yourself, you would spare no one : a man without 
pity ” 

“ On the contrary,” he interrupted, with a sour sort of 
smile, “ pity is almost a foible with me.” 

“ Hot real pity,” she answered. “ Monsieur, I have 
lived long enough to know what pity moves you. It is 
the moment’s careless whim ; a pensive pleasure, a dra- 
matic tenderness. Wholesome pity would make you hesi- 
tate to harm others. You have no principles ” 

“ Pardon me, many,” he urged politely, as he eyed her 
with admiration. 

“ Ah no, monsieur ; habits, not principles. Your life 
has been one long irresponsibility. In the very maturity 
of your powers, you use them to win to yourself, to your 
empty heart, a girl who has tried to live according to the 
teachings of her soul and conscience. Were there not 
women elsewhere to whom it didn’t matter — your aban- 
doned purposes? Why did you throw your shadow on 
my path ? You are not, never were, worthy of h good 
woman’s love.” 

23 


342 the seats of the mighty. 

He laughed with a sort of bitterness. “ Your sinner 
stands between two fires — ” he said. She looked at him 
inquiringly, and he added, “ the punishment he deserves 
and the punishment he does not deserve. But it is inter- 
esting to be thus picked out upon the stone, however 
harsh the picture. You said I infiuenced you — well?” 

“ Monsieur,” she went on, “ there were times when, 
listening to you, I needed all my strength to resist. I have 
felt myself weak and shaking when you came into the 
room. There was something in you that appealed to me, 
I know not what ; but I do know that it was not the best 
of me, that it was emotional, some strange power of your 
personality — ah yes, I can acknowledge all now. You 
had great cleverness, gifts that startled and delighted; 
but yet I felt always, and that feeling grew and grew, that 
there was nothing in you wholly honest ; that by artifice 
you had frittered away what once may have been good in 
you. Now, all goodness in you was an accident of sense 
and caprice, not true morality.” 

“ What has true morality to do with love of you ? ” he 
said. 

“ You ask me hard questions,” she replied. “ This it 
has to do with it : We go from morality to higher things, 
not from higher things to morality. Pure love is a high 
thing ; yours was not high. To have put my life in your 
hands— ah no, no! And so I fought you. There was 
no question of yourself and Robert Moray — none. Him 
I knew to possess fewer gifts, but I knew him also to 
be what you could never be. I never measured him 
against you. What was his was all of me worth the hav- 
ing, and was given always ; there was no change. What 
was yours was given only when in your presence, and then 
with hatred of myself and you — given to some baleful fas- 
cination in you. For a time, the more I struggled against 
it the more it grew, for there was nothing that could in 


THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY. 


343 


fluence a woman which you did not do. Monsieur, if you 
had had Robert Moray’s character and your own gifts, I 
could — monsieur, I could have worshipped you ! ” 

Doltaire was in a kind of dream. He was sitting now 
in the high-backed chair, his mouth and chin in his hand, 
his elbow resting on the chair-arm. His left hand grasped 
the other arm, and he leaned forward with brows bent 
and his eyes fixed on her intently. It was a figure singu- 
larly absorbed, lost in study of some deep theme. Once 
his sword clanged against the chair as it slipped a little 
from its position, and he started almost violently, though 
the dull booming of a cannon in no wise seemed to break 
the quietness of the scene. He was dressed, as in the 
morning, in plain black, but now the Star of Louis shone 
on his breast. His face was pale, but his eyes, with their 
swift-shifting lights, lived upon Alixe, devoured her. 

She paused for an instant. 

“ Thou shalt not commit — idolatry,” he remarked in a 
low, cynical tone, which the repressed feeling in his face 
and the terrible new earnestness of his look belied. 

She flushed a little, and continued : “ Yet all the time 
I was true to him, and what I felt concerning you he 
knew — I told him enough.” 

Suddenly there came into Doltaire’s looks and manner 
an astounding change. Both hands caught the chair- 
arm, his lips parted with a sort of snarl, and his white 
teeth showed maliciously. It seemed as if, all at once, the 
courtier, the flaneur^ the man of breeding, had gone, and 
you had before you the peasant, in a moment’s palsy from 
the intensity of his fury. 

“ A thousand hells for him ! ” he burst out in the rough 
patois of Poictiers, and got to his feet. “ You told him 
all, you confessed your fluttering fears and desires to him, 
while you let me play upon those ardent strings of feel- 
ing, that you might save him ! You used me, Tinoir 


344 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


Doltaire, son of a king, to further your amour with a 
bourgeois Englishman ! And he laughed in his sleeve, 
and soothed away those dangerous influences of the ma- 
gician ! By the God of heaven, Robert Moray and I have 
work to do! And you— you, with all the gifts of the 

perfect courtesan ” 

“ Oh, shame ! shame 1 ” she said, breaking in. 

“ But I speak the truth. You berate me, but you used 
incomparable gifts to hold me near you, and the same 
gifts to let me have no more of you than would keep me. 
I thought you the most honest, the most heavenly of 
women, and now ” 

“ Alas ! ” she interrupted, “ what else could I have 
done ? To draw the line between your constant attention 
and my own necessity 1 Ah, I was but a young girl ; I had 
no friend to help me ; he was condemned to die ; I loved 
him ; I did not believe in you, not in ever so little. If I 
had said, ‘ You must not speak to me again,’ you would 
have guessed my secret, and all my purposes would have 
been defeated. So I had to go on ; nor did I think that 
it ever would cause you aught but a shock to your vanity.” 

He laughed hatefully. “ My faith, but it has shocked 
my vanity,” he answered. “ And now take this for think- 
ing on : Up to this point I have pleaded with you, used 
persuasion, courted you with a humility astonishing 
to myself. Now I will have you in spite of all. I will 
break you, and soothe your hurt afterwards. I will, by 
the face of the Madonna, I will feed where this Moray 
would pasture, I will gather this ripe fruit ! ” 

With a devilish swiftness he caught her about the 
waist, and kissed her again and again upon the mouth. 

The blood was pounding in my veins, and I would 
have rushed in then and there, have ended the long strife, 
and have dug revenge for this outrage from his heart, 
but that I saw Alixe did not move, nor make the least 


THE SECRET OF THE TAPESTRY. 


345 


resistance. This struck me with horror, till, all at once, 
he let her go, and I saw her face. It was very white and 
still, smooth and cold as marble. She seemed five years 
older in the minute. 

“ Have you quite done, monsieur ? ’’ she said, with 
infinite, quiet scorn. “ Do you, the son of a king, find 
joy in kissing lips that answer nothing, a cheek from 
which the blood flows in affright and shame ? Is it an 
achievement to feed as cattle feed ? Listen to me. Mon- 
sieur Doltaire. No, do not try to speak till I have done, 
if your morality — of manners — is not all dead. Through 
this cowardly act of yours, the last vestige of your power 
over me is gone. I sometimes think that with you, in the 
past, I have remained true and virtuous at the expense of 
the best of me ; but now all that is over, and there is no 
temptation — I feel beyond it : by this hour here, this hour 
of sore peril, you have freed me. I was tempted — Heaven 
knows, a few minutes ago I was tempted, for everything 
was with you ; but God has been with me, and you and 
I are now no nearer than the poles.” 

“ You doubt that I love you ? ” he asked in an altered 
voice. 

“ I doubt that any man will so shame the woman he 
loves,” she answered. 

“ What is insult to-day may be a pride to-morrow,” 
was his quick reply. “ I do not repent of it, I never 
will, for you and I shall go to-night from here, and you 
shall be my wife ; and one day, when this man is dead, 
when you have forgotten your bad dream, you will love 
me as you can not love him. I have that in me to make 
you love me. To you I can be loyal, never drifting, 
never wavering. I tell you, I will not let you go. First 
my wife you shall be, and after that I will win your 
love ; in spite of all, mine now, though it is shifted for 
the moment. Come, come, Alixe ” — he made as if to 


346 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


I take her hand — “ you and I will learn the splendid 
secret ” 

She drew back to the shrine of the Virgin. 

“ Mother of God ! Mother of God ! ” I heard her 
whisper, and then she raised her hand against him. 
“No, no, no,” she said, with sharp anguish, “do not 
try to force me to your wishes — do not ; for I, at least, 
will never live to see it. I have suffered more than I 
can bear. I will end this shame, I will ” 

I had heard enough. I stepped back quickly, closed 
the panel, and went softly to the door and into the hall, 
determined to bring her out against Doltaire, trusting to 
Gabord not to oppose me. 


XXVII. 

A SIDE-WIl^D OF KEYENGE. 

I KNEW it was Doltaire’s life or mine, and I shrank 
from desecrating this holy place; but our bitter case 
would warrant this, and more. As I came quickly 
through the hall, and round the corner where stood 
Gabord, I saw a soldier talking with the Mother Su- 
perior. 

“ He is not dead ? ” I heard her say. 

“No, holy Mother,” was the answer, “but sorely 
wounded. He was testing the fire-organs for the rafts, 
and one exploded too soon.” 

At that moment the Mother turned to me, and seemed 
startled by my look. “ What is it ? ” she whispered. 

“ He would carry her off,” I replied. 

“ He shall never do so,” was her quick answer. “ Her 
father, the good Seigneur, has been wounded, and she 
must go to him.” 


A SIDE-WIND OF REVENGE. 


347 


“ I will take her,” said I at once, and I moved to 
open the door. At that moment I caught Gabord’s eye. 
There I read what made me pause. If I declared my- 
self now Gabord’s life would pay for his friendship to 
me — even if I killed Doltaire ; for the matter would be 
open to all then just the same. I could not do that, 
for the man had done me kindnesses dangerous to him- 
self. Besides, he was a true soldier, and disgrace itself 
would be to him as bad as the drum-head court-martial. 
I made up my mind to another course even as the per- 
turbed “ aho ” which followed our glance fell from his 
puffing lips. 

“ But no, holy Mother,” said I, and I whispered in her 
ear. She opened the door and went in, leaving it ajar. 
I could hear only a confused murmur of voices, through 
which ran twice, “ No, no, monsieur,” in Alixe’s soft, 
clear voice. I could scarcely restrain myself, and I am 
sure I should have gone in, in spite of all, had it not 
been for Gabord, who withstood me. 

He was right, and as I turned away I heard Alixe 
cry, “ My father, my poor father ! ” 

Then came Doltaire’s voice, cold and angry : “ Good 
Mother, this is a trick.” 

“ Your Excellency should be a better judge of trickery,” 
she replied quietly. “ Will not your Excellency leave an 
unhappy lady to the Church’s care ? ” 

“ If the Seigneur is hurt, I will take mademoiselle to 
him,” was his instant reply. 

“ It may not be, your Excellency,” she said. “ I will 
furnish her with other escort.” 

“ And I, as Governor of this province, as commander- 
in-chief of the army, say that only with my escort shall 
the lady reach her father.” 

At this Alixe spoke : “ Dear Mere St. George, do not 
fear for me ; God Will protect me 


348 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


“ And I also, mademoiselle, with my life,” interposed 
Doltaire. 

“ God will protect me,” Alixe repeated ; “ I have no 
fear.” 

“ I will send two of our Sisters with mademoiselle 
to nurse the poor Seigneur,” said M^re St. George. 

I am sure Doltaire saw the move. “ A great kind- 
ness, holy Mother,” he said politely, “ and I will see they 
are well cared for. We will set forth at once. The 
Seigneur shall be brought to the Intendance, and he and 
his daughter shall have quarters there.” 

He stepped towards the door where we were. I fell 
back into position as he came. “ Gabord,” said he, “ send 
your trusted fellow here to the General’s camp, and have 
him fetch to the Intendance the Seigneur Duvarney, 
who has been wounded. Alive or dead, he must be 
brought,” he added in a lower voice. 

Then he turned back into the room. As he did so 
Gabord looked at me inquiringly. 

“ If you go, you put your neck into the gin,” said he ; 
“ some one in camp will know you.” 

“ I will not leave my wife,” I answered in a whisper. 
Thus were all plans altered on the instant. Gabord went 
to the outer door and called another soldier, to whom he 
gave this commission. 

A few moments afterwards, Alixe, Doltaire, and the 
Sisters of Mercy were at the door ready to start. Dol- 
taire turned and bowed with a well-assumed reverence 
to the Mother Superior. “To-night’s affairs here are 
sacred to ourselves, M^re St. George,” he said. 

She bowed, but made no reply. Alixe turned and 
kissed her hand. But as we stepped forth, the Mother 
said suddenly, pointing to me, “ Let the soldier come back 
in an hour, and mademoiselle’s luggage shall go to her, 
your Excellency.” 


A SIDE-WIND OF REVENGE. 


349 


Doltaire nodded, glancing at me. “Surely he shall 
attend you, Mdre St. George,” he said, and then stepped on 
with Alixe, Gabord and the other soldier ahead, the two 
Sisters behind, and myself beside these. Going quietly 
through the disordered Upper Town, we came down Pal- 
ace Street to the Intendance. Here Doltaire had kept his 
quarters despite his now desperate quarrel with Bigot. As 
we entered he inquired of the servant where Bigot was, 
and was told he was gone to the Chateau St. Louis. Dol- 
taire shrugged a shoulder and smiled— he knew that 
Bigot had had news of his deposition through the Gov- 
ernor. He gave orders for rooms to be prepared for the 
Seigneur and for the Sisters ; mademoiselle meanwhile to 
be taken to hers, which had, it appeared, been made ready. 
Then I heard him ask in an undertone if the bishop had 
come, and he was answered that Monseigneur was at 
Oharlesbourg, and could not be expected till the morning. 
I was in a most dangerous position, for, though I had 
escaped notice, any moment might betray me ; Doltaire 
himself might see through my disguise. 

We all accompanied Alixe to the door of her apart- 
ments, and there Doltaire with courtesy took leave of her, 
saying that he would return in a little time to see if she 
was comfortable, and to bring her any fresh news of her 
father. The Sisters were given apartments next her own, 
and they entered her room with her, at her request. 

When the door closed, Doltaire turned to Gabord, and 
said, “You shall come with me to bear letters to General 
Montcalm, and you shall send one of these fellows also 
for me to General Bougainville at Cap Rouge.” Then he 
spoke directly to me, and said, “ You shall guard this pas- 
sage till morning. No one but myself may pass into this 
room or out of it, save the Sisters of Mercy, on pain of 
death.” 

I saluted, but spoke no word, 


350 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


“ You understand me? ” he repeated. 

“ Altogether, monsieur,” I answered in a rough, peas- 
antlike voice. 

He turned and walked in a leisurely way through the 
passage, and disappeared, telling Gabord to join him in a 
moment. As he left, Gabord said to me in a low voice, 
“ Get back to General Wolfe, or wife and life will both be 
lost!” 

I caught his hand and pressed it, and a minute after- 
wards I was alone before Alixe’s door. 

An hour later, knowing Alixe to be alone, I tapped on 
her door and entered. As I did so she rose from a prie- 
dieu where she had been kneeling. Two candles were 
burning on the mantel, but the room was much in 
shadow. 

“ What is’t you wish? ” she asked, approaching. 

I had off my hat ; I looked her directly in the eyes 
and put my fingers on my lips. She stared painfully for 
a moment. 

“ Alixe,” said I. 

She gave a gasp, and stood transfixed, as though she 
had seen a ghost, and then in an instant she was in my 
arms, sobs shaking her. “ Oh, Eobert ! oh, my dear, dear 
husband ! ” she cried again and again. I calmed her, and 
presently she broke into a whirl of questions. I told her 
of all I had seen at the cathedral and at the convent and 
what my plans had been, and then I waited for her an- 
swer. A new feeling took possession of her. She knew 
that there was one question at my lips which I dared not 
utter. She became very quiet, and a sweet, settled firm- 
ness came into her face. 

“ Eobert,” she said, “ you must go back to your army 
without me. I can not leave my father now. Save yourself 
alone, and if— and if you take the city, and I am alive, 
we shall be reunited. If you do not take the city, then, 


A SIDE-WIND OF REVENGE. 


351 


whether my father lives or dies, I will come to you. Of 
this be sure, that I shall never live to be the wife of any 
other man — wife or aught else. You know me. You 
know all, you trust me and, my dear husband, my own 
love, we must part once more. Go, go, and save yourself ; 
keep your life safe for my sake, and may God in heaven, 
may God ” 

Here she broke off and started back from my embrace, 
staring hard a moment over my shoulder ; then her face 
became deadly pale, and she fell back unconscious. Sup- 
porting her, I turned round, and there, inside the door, 
with his back to it, was Doltaire. There was a devilish 
smile on his face, as wicked a look as I ever saw on any 
man. I laid Alixe down on a sofa without a word, and 
faced him again. 

“ As many coats as Joseph’s coat had colours,” he said. 
“ And for once disguised as an honest man— well, well ! ” 
“ Beast ! ” I hissed, and I whipped out my short sword. 
“ Not here,” he said, with a malicious laugh. “ You 
forget your manners: familiarity” — he glanced towards 

the couch — “ has bred ” 

“ Coward ! ” I cried. “ I will kill you at her feet ! ” 

“ Come, then,” he answered, and stepped away from 
the door, drawing his sword, “ since you will have it here. 

But if I kill you, as I intend ” 

He smiled detestably, and motioned towards the couch, 
then turned to the door again as if to lock it. I stepped 
between, my sword at guard. At that the door opened. 
A woman came in quickly, and closed it behind her. She 
passed me, and faced Doltaire. 

It was Madame Cournal. She was most pale, and 
there was a peculiar wildness in her eyes. 

“ You have deposed Frangois Bigot ! ” she said. 

“Stand back, madame; I have business with this fel- 
low,” said Doltaire, waving his hand. 


352 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


“ My business comes first,” she replied. “ You — you 
dare to depose Frangois Bigot ! ” 

“ It needs no daring,” he said nonchalantly. 

“ You shall put him back in his place.” 

“ Come to me to-morrow morning, dear madame.” 

“ I tell you he must be put back. Monsieur Doltaire.” 

“ Once you called me Tinoir,” he said meaningly. 

Without a word she caught from her cloak a dagger 
and struck him in the breast, though he threw up his 
hand and partly diverted the blow. Without a cry he half 
swung round, and sank, face forward, against the couch 
where Alixe lay. 

Kaising himself feebly, blindly, he caught her hand 
and kissed it ; then he fell back. 

Stooping beside him, I felt his heart. He was alive. 
Madame Coiirnal now knelt beside him, staring at him as 
in a kind of dream. I left the room quickly, and met the 
Sisters of Mercy in the hall. They had heard the noise, 
and were coming to Alixe. I bade them care for her. 
Passing rapidly through the corridors, I told a servant of 
the household what had occurred, bade him send for 
Bigot, and then made for my own safety. Alixe was safe 
for a time, at least — perhaps forever, thank God ! — from 
the approaches of Monsieur Doltaire. As I sped through 
the streets, I could not help but think of how he had 
kissed her hand as he fell, and I knew by this act, at 
such a time, that in very truth he loved her after his 
fashion. 

I came soon to the St. John’s Gate, for I had the 
countersign from Gabord, and dressed as I was, I had no 
difficulty in passing. Outside I saw a small cavalcade 
arriving from Beauport way. I drew back and let it 
pass me, and then I saw that it was a company of soldiers 
bearing the Seigneur Duvarney to the Intendance. 

An hour afterwards, having passed the sentries, I stood 





She caught from her cloak a dagger and struck him in tlie breast. 





¥ 


TO CHEAT THE DEVIL YET.’ 


353 


on a lonely point of the shore of the Lower Town, and, 
seeing no one near, I slid into the water. As I did so I 
heard a challenge behind me, and when I made no answer 
there came a shot, another, and another ; for it was thought, 
I doubt not, that I was a deserter. I was wounded in the 
shoulder, and had to swim with one arm ; but though boats 
were put out from the shore, I managed to evade them 
and to get within hail of our fleet. Challenged there, I 
answered with my name. A boat shot out from among 
the ships, and soon I was hauled into it by Clark himself ; 
and that night I rested safe upon the Terror of France. 


XXVIII. 

“TO CHEAT THE DEVIL YET.” 

My hurt proved more serious than I had looked for, 
and the day after my escape I was in a high fever. Gen- 
eral Wolfe himself, having heard of my return, sent to 
inquire after me. He also was ill, and our forces were 
depressed in consequence ; for he had a power to inspire 
them not given to any other of our accomplished generals. 
He forbore to question me concerning the state of the 
town and what I had seen ; for which I was glad. My 
adventure had been of a private nature, and such I 
wished it to remain. The General desired me to come 
to him as soon as I was able, that I might proceed with 
him above the town to reconnoitre. But for many a 
day this was impossible, for my wound gave me much 
pain and I was confined to my bed. 

Yet we on the Terror of France served our good 
General, too ; for one dark night, when the wind was 
fair, we piloted the remaining ships of Admiral Holmes’s 
division above the town. This move was made on my 


354 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


constant assertion that there was a way by which Quebec 
might be taken from above; and when Genera^ Wolfe 
made known my representations to his general officers, 
they accepted it as a last resort ; for otherwise what hope 
had they? At Montmorenci our troops had been re- 
pulsed ; the mud flats of the Beauport shore and the St. 
Charles Kiver were as good as an army against us ; the 
Upper Town and Citadel were practically impregnable ; 
and for eight miles west of the town to the cove and 
river at Cap Rouge there was one long precipice, broken 
in but one spot ; but just there, I was sure, men could 
come up with stiff climbing, as I had done. Bougainville 
came to Cap Rouge now with three thousand men, for he 
thought that this was to be our point of attack. Along 
the shore from Cap Rouge to Cape Diamond small bat- 
teries were posted, such as that of Lancy’s at Anse du 
Foulon ; but they were careless, for no conjectures might 
seem so wild as that of bringing an army up where I had 
climbed. 

“ Tut, tut,” said General Murray, when he came to 
me on the Terror of France, after having, at my sug- 
gestion, gone to the south shore opposite Anse du Fou- 
lon, and’ scanned the faint line that marked the narrow 
cleft on the cliff side — “ tut, tut, man,” said he, “ ’tis the 
dream of a cat or a damned mathematician.” 

Once, after all was done, he said to me that cats and 
mathematicians were the only generals. 

With a belligerent pride Clark showed the way up 
the river one evening, the batteries of the town giving 
us plunging shots as we went, and ours at Point Levis 
answering gallantly. To me it was a good if most anx- 
ious time : good, in that I was having some sort of com- 
pensation for my own sufferings in the town ; anxious, 
because no single word came to me of Alixe or her father, 
and all the time we were pouring death into the place. 


TO CHEAT THE DEVIL YET.’ 


355 


But this we knew from deserters, that Vaudreuil was 
Governor and Bigot Intendant still ; by which it would 
seem that, on the momentous night when Doltaire was 
wounded by Madame Cournal, he gave back the govern- 
orship to Vaudreuil and reinstated Bigot. Presently, 
from an officer who had been captured as he was setting 
free a fire-raft to run among the boats of our fieet, I 
heard that Doltaire had been confined in the Intend- 
ance from a wound given by a stupid sentry. Thus the 
true story had been kept from the public. From him, 
too, I learned that nothing was known of the Seigneur 
Duvarney and his daughter; that they had suddenly 
disappeared from the Intendance, as if the earth had 
swallowed them ; and that even Juste Duvarney knew 
nothing of them, and was, in consequence, greatly dis- 
tressed. 

This officer also said that now, when it might seem as 
if both the Seigneur and his daughter were dead, opinion 
had turned in Alixe’s favour, and the feeling had crept 
about, first among the common folk and afterwards 
among the people of the garrison, that she had been 
used harshly. This was due largely, he thought, to the 
constant advocacy of the Chevalier de la Darante, whose 
nephew had married Mademoiselle Georgette Duvarney. 
This piece of news, in spite of the uncertainty of Alixe’s 
fate, touched me, for the Chevalier had indeed kept his 
word to me. 

At last all of Admiral Holmes’s division was got 
above the town, with very little damage, and I never 
saw a man so elated, so profoundly elated as Clark over 
his share in the business. He was a daredevil, too ; for 
the day that the last of the division was taken up the 
river, without my permission or the permission of the 
admiral or any one else, he took the Terror of France 
almost up to Bougainville’s earthworks in the cove at 


856 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


Cap Rouge and insolently emptied his six swivels into 
them, and then came out and stood down the river. 
When I asked what he was doing— for I was now well 
enough to come on deck — he said he was going to see 
how monkeys could throw nuts ; when 1 pressed him, 
he said he had a will to hear the cats in the eaves ; and 
when I became severe, he added that he would bring 
the Terror of France up past the batteries of the town 
in broad daylight, swearing that they could no more hit 
him than a woman could a bird on a flagstaff. I did not 
relish this foolish bravado, and I forbade it ; but pres- 
ently I consented, on condition that he take me to Gen- 
eral Wolfe’s camp at Montmorenci first ; for now I felt 
strong enough to be again on active service. 

Clark took the Terror of France up the river in 
midday, running perilously close to the batteries ; and 
though they pounded at him petulantly, foolishly angry 
at his contemptuous defiance, he ran the gauntlet safely, 
and coming to the flagship, the Sutherland, saluted with 
his six swivels, to the laughter of the whole fleet and his 
own profane joy. 

“ Mr. Moray,” said General Wolfe, when I saw him, 
racked with pain, studying a chart of the river and 
town which his chief engineer had just brought him, 
“ show me here this passage in the hillside.” 

I did so, tracing the plains of Maitre Abraham, which 
I assured him would be good ground for a pitched bat- 
tle. He nodded ; then rose, and walked up and down for 
a time, thinking. Suddenly he stopped, and fixed his 
eyes upon me. 

“ Mr. Moray,” said he, “ it would seem that you, 
angering La Pompadour, brought down this war upon 
us.” He paused, smiling in a dry way, as if the thought 
amused him, as if, indeed, he doubted it ; but for that 
I cared not, it was an honour I could easily live without. 


TO CHEAT THE DEVIL YET/ 


357 

I bowed to his words, and said, “ Mine was the last 
straw, sir.” 

Again he nodded, and replied, “ Well, well, you got us 
into trouble ; you must show us the way out,” and he 
looked again at the passage I had traced upon the chart. 
“ You will remain with me until we meet our enemy on 
these heights.” He pointed to the plains of Maitre Abra- 
ham. Then he turned away, and began walking up and 
down again. “ It is the last chance ! ” he said to himself 
in a tone despairing and yet heroic. “ Please God ! please 
God ! ” he added. 

“ You will speak nothing of these plans,” he said to 
me at last, half mechanically. “ We must make feints of 
landing at Cap Rouge — feints of landing everywhere save 
at the one possible place ; confuse both Bougainville and 
Montcalm ; tire out their armies with watchings and 
want of sleep ; and then, on the auspicious night, make 
the great trial.” 

I had remained respectfully standing at a little dis- 
tance from him. Now he suddenly came to me, and, 
pressing my hand, said quickly, “ You have trouble, Mr. 
Moray. I am sorry for you. But maybe it is for better 
things to come ! ” 

I thanked him stumblingly, and a moment later left 
him, to serve him on the morrow, and so on through 
many days, till,' in divers perils, the camp at Montmorenci 
was abandoned, the troops were got aboard the ships, and 
the General took up his quarters on the Sutherland ; from 
which, one notable day, I sallied forth with him to a point 
at the south shore opposite the Anse du Foulon, where he 
saw the thin crack in the cliff side. From that moment 
instant and final attack was his purpose. 

The great night came, starlit and serene. The camp- 
fires of two armies spotted the shores of the wide river, 
24 


358 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


and the ships lay like wild fowl in convoys above the town 
from where the arrow of fate should be sped. Darkness 
upon the river, and fireflies upon the shore. At Beau- 
port, an untiring General, who for a hundred days had 
snatched sleep, booted and spurred, and in the ebb of a 
losing game, longed for his adored Candiac, grieved for a 
beloved daughter’s death, sent cheerful messages to his 
aged mother and to his wife, and by the deeper protests 
of his love foreshadowed his own doom. At Cap Rouge, 
a dying commander, unperturbed and valiant, reached out 
a finger to trace the last movements in a desperate cam- 
paign of life that opened in Flanders at sixteen ; of which 
the end began when he took from his bosom the portrait 
of his affianced wife, and said to his old schoolfellow, 
“ Give this to her, Jervis, for we shall meet no more.” 

Then, passing to the deck, silent and steady, no signs 
of pain upon his face, so had the calm come to him, as to 
Nature and this beleaguered city, before the whirlwind, he 
looked out upon the clustered groups of boats filled with 
the flower of his army, settled in a menacing tranquillity. 
There lay the Light Infantry, Bragg’s, Kennedy’s, Las- 
celles’s, Anstruther’s Regiment, Fraser’s Highlanders, 
and the much-loved, much-blamed, and impetuous Louis- 
burg Grenadiers. Steady, indomitable, silent as^ cats, 
precise as mathematicians, he could trust them, as they 
loved his awkward, pain-twisted body and ugly red hair. 
“ Damme, Jack, didst thee ever take hell in tow before?” 
said a sailor from the Terror of France to his fellow once, 
as the marines grappled with a flotilla of French fire-ships, 
and dragged them, spitting destruction, clear of the fleet, 
to the shore. “Nay, but I’ve been in tow of Jimmy 
Wolfe’s red head ; that’s hell-fire, lad ! ” was the reply. 

From boat to boat the General’s eye passed, then 
shifted to the ships — the Squirrel, the Leostaff, the Sea- 
horse, and the rest — and lastly to where the army of 


TO CHEAT THE DEVIL YET.’ 


359 


Bougainville lay. Then there came towards him an offi- 
cer, who said quietly, “ The tide has turned, sir.” For 
reply the General made a swift motion towards the main- 
top shrouds, and almost instantly lanterns showed in 
them. In response, the crowded boats began to cast 
away, and, immediately descending, the General passed 
into his own boat, drew to the front, and drifted in the 
current ahead of his gallant men, the ships following 
after. 

It was two by the clock when the boats began to move, 
and slowly we ranged down the stream, silently steered, 
carried by the current. No paddle, no creaking oar- 
lock, broke the stillness. I was in the next boat to the 
General’s, for, with Clark and twenty-two other volunteers 
to the forlorn hope, I was to show the way up the heights, 
and we were near to his person for over two hours that 
night. No moon was shining, but I could see the General 
plainly ; and once, when our boats almost touched, he saw 
me, and said graciously, “ If they get up, Mr. Moray, you 
are free to serve yourself.” 

My heart was full of love of country then, and I an- 
swered, “ I hope, sir, to serve you till your flag is hoisted 
on the citadel.” 

He turned to a young midshipman beside him, and 
said, “ How old are you, sir?” 

“ Seventeen, sir,” was the reply. 

“ It- is the most lasting passion,” he said, musing. 

It seemed to me then, and I still think it, that the 
passion he meant was love of country. A moment after- 
wards I heard him recite to the officers about him, in a 
low, clear tone, some verses by Mr. Gray, the poet, which 
I had never then read, though I have prized them since. 
Under those frowning heights, and the smell from our 
roaring distant thirty-two-pounders in the air, I heard 
him say : 


360 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


“ The curfew tolls the knell of parting day ; 

The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea ; 

The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 

And leaves the world to darkness and to me.” 

I have heard finer voices than his — it was as tin beside 
Doltaire’s — but something in it pierced me that night, and 
I felt the man, the perfect hero, when he said : 

“ The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 

And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave. 

Await alike the inevitable hour — 

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.” 

Soon afterwards we neared the end of our quest, the 
tide carrying us in to shore ; and down from the dark 
heights there came a challenge, satisfied by an officer, who 
said in French that we were provision-boats for Mont- 
calm : these, we knew, had been expected ! Then came the 
batteries of Samos. Again we passed with the same ex- 
cuse, rounded a headland, and the great work was begun. 

The boats of the Light Infantry swung in to shore. 
No sentry challenged, but I knew that at the top Lancy’s 
tents were set. When the Light Infantry had landed, we 
twenty-four volunteers stood still for a moment, and I 
pointed out the way. Before we started, we stooped be- 
side a brook that leaped lightly down the ravine and 
drank a little rum and water. Then I led the way, Clark 
at one side of me, and a soldier of the Light Infantry at 
the other. It was hard climbing, but, following in our 
careful steps as silently as they might, the good fellows 
came eagerly after. Once a rock broke loose and came 
tumbling down, but plunged into a thicket, where it 
stayed ; else it might have done for us entirely. I breathed 
freely when it stopped. Once, too, a branch cracked 
loudly, and we lay still ; but hearing nothing above, we 
pushed on, and, sweating greatly, came close to the top. 


TO CHEAT THE DEVIL YET.’ 


361 


Here Clark and I drew back, for such honour as there 
might be in gaining the heights first I wished to go to 
these soldiers who had trusted their lives to my guidance. 
I let six go by and reach the heights, and then I drew 
myself up. We did not stir till all twenty-four were safe ; 
then we made a dash for the tents of Lancy, which now 
showed in the first gray light of morning. We were dis- 
covered, and shots greeted us ; but we were on them in- 
stantly, and in a moment I had the pleasure of putting a 
bullet in Lancy’s heel, and brought him down. Our 
cheers told the General the news, and soon hundreds of 
soldiers were climbing the hard way that we had come. 

And now, while an army climbed to the heights of 
Maitre Abraham, Admiral Saunders in the gray dawn 
was bombarding Montcalm’s encampment, and boats 
filled with marines and soldiers drew to the Beauport 
fiats, as if to land there ; while shots, bombs, shells, and 
carcasses were hurled from Levis upon the town, deceiv- 
ing Montcalm. At last, however, suspecting, he rode 
towards the town at six o’clock, and saw our scarlet 
ranks spread across the plains between him and Bou- 
gainville, and on the crest, nearer to him, eying us in 
amazement, the white-coated battalion of Guienne, which 
should the day before have occupied the very ground 
held by Lancy. A slight rain falling added to their 
gloom, but cheered us. It gave us a better light to 
fight by, for in the clear September air, the bright sun 
shining in our faces, they would have had us at advan- 
tage. 

In another hour the gates of St. J ohn and St. Louis 
emptied out upon this battlefield a warring flood of our 
foes. It was a handsome sight : the white uniforms of 
the brave regiments, Roussillon, La Sarre, Guienne, Lan- 
guedoc, Bearn, mixed with the dark, excitable militia, the 
sturdy burghers of the town, a band of coureurs de 


362 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


hois in their rough hunter’s costume, and whooping In- 
dians, painted and furious, ready to eat us. At last here 
was to be a test of fighting in open field, though the 
French had in their whole army twice the number of 
our men, a walled and provisioned city behind them, 
and field-pieces in great number to bring against us. 

But there was bungling with them. Vaudreuil hung 
back or came tardily from Beauport ; Bougainville had 
not yet arrived ; and when they might have pitted twice 
our number against us, they had not many more than we. 
With Bougainville behind us and Montcalm in front, we 
might have been checked, though there was no man in 
all our army but believed that we should win the day. 
I could plainly see Montcalm, mounted on a dark horse, 
riding along the lines as they formed against us, waving 
his sword, a truly gallant figure. He was answered by a 
roar of applause and greeting. On the left their Indians 
and burghers overlapped our second line, where Town- 
send with Amherst’s and the Light Infantry, and 
Colonel Burton with the Royal Americans and Light 
Infantry, guarded our flank, prepared to meet Bougain- 
ville. In vain our foes tried to get between our right 
flank and the river ; Otway’s Regiment, thrown out, de- 
feated that. 

It was my hope that Doltaire was with Montcalm, and 
that we might meet and end our quarrel. I came to 
know afterwards that it was he who had induced Mont- 
calm to send the battalion of Guienne to the heights 
above the Anse du Foulon. The battalion had not been 
moved till twenty-four hours after the order was given, 
or we should never have gained those heights ; stones 
rolled from the cliff would have destroyed an army ! 

We waited, Clark and I, with the Louisburg Grena- 
diers while they formed. We made no noise, but stood 
steady and still, the bagpipes of the Highlanders shrilly 


“TO CHEAT THE DEVIL YET.” 363 

challenging. At eight o’clock sharpshooters began firing 
on us from the left, and our skirmishers were thrown out 
to IfOld them in' check, or drive them from the houses 
where they sheltered and galled Townsend’s men. Their 
field-pieces opened on us, too, and yet we did nothing, but 
at nine o’clock, being ordered, we lay down and waited 
still. There was no restlessness, no anxiety, no show of 
doubt, for these men of ours were old fighters, and they 
trusted their leaders. From bushes, trees, coverts, and 
fields of grain there came that constant hail of fire, 
and there fell upon our ranks a doggedness, a quiet 
anger, which grew into a grisly patience. The only 
pleasure we had in two long hours was in watching our 
two brass six-pounders play upon the irregular ranks of 
our foes, making confusion, and Townsend drive back a 
detachment of cavalry from Cap Eouge, which sought to 
break our left fiank and reach Montcalm. 

We had seen the stars go down, the cold, mottled 
light of dawn break over the battered city and the 
heights of Charlesbourg ; we had watched the sun come 
up, and then steal away behind the slow-travelling clouds 
and hanging mist ; we had looked across over unreaped 
cornfields and the dull, slovenly St. Charles, knowing 
that endless leagues of country, north and south, east 
and west, lay in the balance for the last time. I be- 
lieved that this day would see the last of the strife 
between England and France for dominion here; of La 
Pompadour’s spite which I had roused to action against 
my country; of the struggle between Doltaire and my- 
self. 

The public stake was worthy of our army — worthy of 
the dauntless soldier who had begged his physicians to 
patch him up long enough to fight this fight, whereon 
he staked reputation, life, all that a man loves in the 
world ; the private stake was more than worthy of my 


364 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


long sufferings. I thought that Montcalm would have 
waited for Vaudreuil, but no. At ten o’clock his three 
columns came down upon us briskly, making a •wild 
rattle ; two columns moving upon our right and one 
upon our left, firing obliquely and constantly as they 
marched. Then came the command to rise, and we 
stood up and waited, our muskets loaded with an extra 
ball. I could feel the stern malice in our ranks, as we 
stood there and took, without returning a shot, that 
damnable fire. Minute after minute passed ; then came 
the sharp command to advance. We did so, and again 
halted, and yet no shot came from us. We stood there 
inactive, a long palisade of red. 

At last I saw our General raise his sword, a command 
rang down the long line of battle, and, like one terrible 
cannon-shot, our muskets sang together with as perfect a 
precision as on a private field of exercise. Then, waiting 
for the smoke to clear a little, another volley came with 
almost the same precision ; after which the firing came 
in choppy waves of sound, and again in a persistent clat- 
tering. Then a light breeze lifted the smoke and mist 
well away, and a wayward sunlight showed us our foe, 
like a long white wave retreating from a rocky shore, 
bending, crumpling, breaking, and, in a hundred little 
billows, fleeing seaward. 

Thus checked, confounded, the French army trem- 
bled and fell back. Then I heard the order to charge, 
and from nearly four thousand throats there came 
for the first time our exultant British cheer, and high 
over all rang the slogan of Fraser’s Highlanders. To 
my left I saw the flashing broadswords of the clansmen, 
ahead of all the rest. Those sickles of death clove 
through and broke the battalions of La Sarre, and Las- 
celles scattered the soldiers of Languedoc into flying 
columns. We on the right, led by Wolfe, charged the 


TO CHEAT THE DEVIL YET.’ 


365 


desperate and valiant men of Roussillon and Guienne 
and the impetuous sharpshooters of the militia. As we 
came on I observed the General sway and push forward 
again, and then I lost sight of him, for I saw what 
gave the battle a new interest to me : Doltaire, cool and 
deliberate, animating and encouraging the French troops. 

I moved in a shaking hedge of bayonets, keeping my 
eye upon him ; and presently there was a hand-to-hand 
meUe^ out of which I fought to reach him. I was 
making for him, where he now sought to rally the re- 
treating columns, when I noticed, not far away, Gabord, 
mounted, and attacked by three grenadiers. Looking 
back now, I see him, with his sabre cutting right and 
left, as he drove his horse at one grenadier, who slipped 
and fell on the slippery ground, while the horse rode on 
him, battering him. Obliquely down swept the sabre, and 
drove through the cheek and chin of one foe ; another 
sweep, and the bayonet of the other was struck aside; 
and another, which was turned aside as Gabord’s horse 
came down, bayoneted by the fallen grenadier. But 
Gabord was on his feet again, roaring like a bull, with 
a wild grin on his face, as he partly struck aside the 
bayonet of the last grenadier. It caught him in the 
flesh of the left side. He grasped the musket-barrel, 
and swung his sabre with fierce precision. The man’s 
head dropped back like the lid of a pot, and he tum- 
bled into a heap of the faded golden-rod flower which 
spattered the field. 

At this moment I saw Juste Duvarney making 
towards me, hatred and deadly purpose in his eyes. I 
had will enough to meet him, and to kill him too, yet 
I could not help but think of Alixe. Gabord saw him 
also, and, being nearer, made for me as well. For that 
act I cherish his memory. The thought was worthy of 
a gentleman of breeding; he had the true thing in hia 


366 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


heart. He would save us — two brothers — from fighting, 
by fighting me himself ! 

He reached me first, and with an “ Au diable ! ” made 
a stroke at me. It was a matter of sword and sabre now. 
Clark met Juste Duvarney’s rush ; and there we were, 
at as fine a game of cross-purposes as you can think : 
Clark hungering for Gabord’s life (Gabord had once been 
his jailer too), and Juste Duvarney for mine; the battle 
faring on ahead of us. Soon the two were clean cut 
off from the French army, and must fight to the death 
or surrender. 

Juste Duvarney spoke only once, and then it was but 
the rancorous word “ Kenegade ! ” nor did I speak at 
all; but Clark was blasphemous, and Gaberd, bleeding, 
fought with a sputtering relish. 

“Fair fight and fowl for spitting,” he cried. “Go 
home to heaven, dickey-bird ! ” 

Between phrases of this kind we cut and thrust for 
life, an odd sort of fighting. I fought with a desperate 
alertness, and presently my sword passed through his 
body, drew out, and he shivered — fell — where he stood, 
collapsing suddenly like a bag. I knelt beside him and 
lifted up his head. His eyes were glazing fast. 

“ Gabord ! Gabord ! ” I called, grief-stricken, for that 
work was the worst I ever did in this world. 

He started, stared, and fumbled at his waistcoat. I 
quickly put my hand in, and drew out — one of Mathilde’s 
wooden crosses ! 

“ To cheat — the devil — yet — aho ! ” he whispered, 
kissed the cross, and so was done with life. 

When I turned from him, Clark stood alone beside 
me. Dazed as I was, I did not at first grasp the signifi- 
cance of that fact. I looked towards the town, and saw 
the French army hustling into the St. Louis Gate ; saw 
the Highlanders charging the bushes at the Cote Ste. 


“MASTER DEVIL” DOLTAIRE. 


367 


Genevieve, where the brave Canadians made their last 
stand ; saw, not fifty feet away, the noblest soldier of 
our time, even General Wolfe, dead in the arms of Mr. 
Henderson, a volunteer in the Twenty-second ; and then, 
almost at my feet, stretched out as I had seen him lie 
in the Palace courtyard two years before, I behdd Juste 
Duvarney. 

But now he was beyond all friendship or reconcilia- 
tion — forever ! 


XXIX. 

“MASTER devil” DOLTAIRE. 

The bells of some shattered church were calling to 
vespers, the sun was sinking behind the flaming autumn 
woods, as once more I entered the St. Louis Gate, with 
the grenadiers and a detachment of artillery, the British 
colours hoisted on a gun-carriage. Till this hour I had 
ever entered and left this town a captive, a price set 
on my head, and in the very street where I now walked 
I had gone with a rope round my neck, abused and 
maltreated. I saw our flag replace the golden lilies of 
France on the citadel where Doltaire had baited me, 
and at the top of Mountain Street, near to the bishop’s 
palace, our colours also flew. 

Every step I took was familiar, yet unfamiliar too. 
It was a disfigured town, where a hungry, distracted 
people huddled among ruins and begged for mercy and 
for food, nor found time in the general overwhelming 
to think of the gallant Montcalm, lying in his shell- 
made grave at the chapel of the Ursulines, not fifty 
steps from where I had looked through the tapestry on 
Alixe and Doltaire. The convent was almost deserted 
now, and as I passed it, on my way to the cathedral, I 


368 


THE SEATS OP THE MIGHTY. 


took off my hat ; for how knew I but that she I loved 
best lay there too, as truly a heroine as the admirable 
Montcalm was hero ! A solitary bell was clanging on the 
chapel as I went by, and I saw three nuns steal past me 
with bowed heads. I longed to ask them of Alixe, for 
I felt sure that the Church knew where she was, living 
or dead, though none of all I asked knew aught of her, 
not even the Chevalier de la Darante, who had come 
to our camp the night before, accompanied by Monsieur 
Joannes, the town major, with terms of surrender. 

I came to the church of the Recollets as I wandered ; 
for now, for a little time, I seemed bewildered and in- 
capable, lost in a maze of dreadful imaginings. I entered 
the door of the church, and stumbled upon a body. 
Hearing footsteps ahead in the dusk, I passed up the 
aisle, and came upon a pile of debris. Looking up, I 
could see the stars shining through a hole in the roof. 
Hearing a noise beyond, I went on, and there, seated on 
the high altar, was the dwarf who had snatched the cup 
of rum out of the fire the night that Mathilde had given 
the crosses to the revellers. He gave a low, wild laugh, 
and hugged a bottle to his breast. Almost at his feet, 
half naked, with her face on the lowest step of the altar, 
her feet touching the altar itself, was the girl — his sister 
— who had kept her drunken lover from assaulting him. 
The girl was dead — there was a knife- wound in her breast. 
Sick at the sight, I left the place and went on, almost 
mechanically, to Voban’s house. It was level with the 
ground, a crumpled heap of ruins. I passed Lancy’s house, 
in front of which I had fought with Gabord ; it, too, was 
broken to pieces. 

As I turned away I heard a loud noise as of an ex- 
plosion, and I supposed it to ‘ be some magazine. I 
thought of it no more at the time. Voban must be 
found ; that was more important. I must know of Alixe 


MASTER DEVIL” DOLTaIRE. 


369 


first, and I felt sure that if any one guessed her where- 
abouts it would be he : she would have told him where 
she was going, if she had fled ; if she were dead, who 
so likely to know as this secret, elusive, vengeful watcher ? 
Of Doltaire I had heard nothing ; I would seek him 
out when I knew of Alixe. He could not escape me in 
this walled town. I passed on for a time without direc- 
tion, for I seemed not to know where I might And the 
barber. Our sentries already patrolled the streets, and 
our bugles were calling on the heights, with answering 
calls from the fleet in the basin. Night came down 
quickly, the stars shone out in the perfect blue, and, as I 
walked along, broken walls, shattered houses, solitary pil- 
lars, looked mystically strange. It was painfully quiet, as 
if a beaten people had crawled away into the holes our shot 
and shell had made, to hide their misery. Now and 
again a gaunt face looked out from a hiding-place, and 
drew back again in fear at sight of me. Once a drunken 
woman spat at me and cursed me ; once I was flred at ; 
and many times from dark corners I heard voices crying, 
“ Sauvez-moi — aA, sauvez-moi^ ion Dieu ! ” Once I stood 
for many minutes and watched our soldiers giving bis- 
cuits and their own share of rum to homeless French 
peasants hovering round the smouldering ruins of a house 
which carcasses had destroyed. 

And now my wits came back to me, my purposes, the 
power to act, which for a couple of hours had seemed to 
be in abeyance. I hurried through narrow streets to the 
cathedral. There it stood, a shattered mass, its sides all 
broken, its roof gone, its tall octagonal tower alone sub- 
stantial and unchanged. Coming to its rear, I found Ba- 
bette’s little house, with open door, and I went in. The 
old grandfather sat in his corner, with a lighted candle 
on the table near him, across his knees Jean’s coat that I 
had worn. He only babbled nonsense to my questioning, 


370 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


and, after calling aloud to Babette and getting no reply, I 
started for the Intendance. 

I had scarcely left the house when I saw some French 
peasants coming towards me with a litter. A woman 
walking behind the litter carried a lantern, and one of 
our soldiers of artillery attended and directed. I ran for- 
ward, and discovered Voban, mortally hurt. The woman 
gave a cry, and spoke my name in a kind of surprise and 
relief ; and the soldier, recognising me, saluted. I sent 
him for a surgeon, and came on with the hurt man to the 
little house. Soon I was alone with him save for Babette, 
and I sent her for a priest. As soon as I had seen Voban 
I guessed what had happened : he had tried for his re- 
venge at last. After a little time he knew me, but at first 
he could not speak. 

“ What has happened — the palace? ” said I. 

He nodded. 

“ You blew it up — with Bigot? ” I asked. 

His reply was a whisper, and his face twitched with 
pain : “ Not — with Bigot.” 

I gave him some cordial, which he was inclined to re- 
fuse. It revived him, but I saw he could live only a few 
hours. Presently he made an effort. “ I will tell you,” 
he whispered. 

“ Tell me first of my wife,” said I. “ Is she alive ? — is- 
she alive ? ” 

If a smile could have been upon his lips then, I saw 
one there — good Voban ! I put my ear down, and my 
heart almost stopped beating, until I heard him say, “ Find 
Mathilde.” 

“ Where ? ” asked I. 

“In the Valdoche Hills,” he answered, “where the 
Gray Monk lives — by the Tall Calvary.” 

He gasped with pain. I let him rest awhile, and eased 
the bandages on him, and at last he told his story : 


MASTER DEVIL” DOLTAIRE. 


371 


“ I am to be gone soon. For two years I have wait for 
the good time to kill him — Bigot — to send him and his pal- 
ace to hell. I can not tell you how I work to do it. It is no 
matter — no. From an old cellar I mine, and at last I get 
the powder lay beneath him — his palace. So. But he 
does not come to the palace much this many months, and 
Madame Cournal is always with him, and it is hard to do 
the thing in other ways. But I laugh when the English 
come in the town, and when I see Bigot fly to his palace 
alone to get his treasure-chest I think it is my time. So 
I ask the valet, and he say he is in the private room that 
lead to the treasure-place. Then I come back quick to 
the secret spot and Are my mine. In ten minutes all will 
be done. I go at once to his room again, alone. I pass 
through the one room, and come to the other. It is a 
room with one small barred window. If he is there, I will 
say a word to him that I have wait long to say, then shut 
the door on us both — for I am sick of life — and watch 
him and laugh at him till the end comes. If he is in the 
other room, then I have a way as sure ” 

He paused, exhausted, and I waited till he could again 
go on. At last he made a great effort, and continued : “ I 
go back to the flrst room, and he is not there. I pass soft, 
to the treasure-room, and I see him kneel beside a chest, 
•looking in. His back is to me. I hear him laugh to him- 
self. I shut the door, turn the key, go to the window and 
throw it out, and look at him again. But now he stand 
and turn to me, and then I see — I see it is not Bigot, but 
M’sieu’ Doltaire ! 

“ I am sick when I see that, and at first I can not 
speak, my tongue stick in my mouth so dry. ‘ Has Vo- 
ban turn robber?’ m’sieu’ say. I put out my hand and 
try to speak again — but no. ‘What did you throw 
from the window?’ he ask. ‘And what’s the matter, 
my Voban?’ ‘My God,’ I say at him now, ‘I thought 


372 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


you are Bigot ! ’ I point to the floor. ‘ Powder ! ’ I 
whisper. 

“ His eyes go like fire so terrible ; he look to the window, 
take a quick, angry step to me, but stand still. Then he 
point to the window. ‘ The key, Voban? ’ he say ; and I 
answer, ‘Yes.’ He get pale ; then he go and try the door, 
look close at the walls, try them — quick, quick, stop, feel 
for a panel, then try again, stand still, and lean against 
the table. It is no use to call ; no one can hear, for it is 
all roar outside, and these walls are solid and very thick. 

“ ‘ How long ? ’ he say, and take out his watch. ‘ Five 
minutes — maybe,’ I answer. He put his watch on the table, 
and sit down on a bench by it, and for a little minute he 
do not speak, but look at me close, and not angry, as you 
would think. ‘ Voban,’ he say in a low voice, ‘ Bigot was a 
thief.’ He point to the chest. ‘ He stole from the King 
— my father. He stole your Mathilde from you ! He 
should have died. We have both been blunderers, Voban, 
blunderers,’ he say; ‘things have gone wrong with us. 
We have lost all.’ There is little time. ‘ Tell me one 
thing,’ he go on : ‘ is Mademoiselle Duvarney safe — do 
you know?’ I tell him yes, and he smile, and take from 
his pocket something, and lay it against his lips, and then 
put it back in his breast. 

“‘You are not afraid to die, Voban?’ he ask. I an- 
swer no. ‘ Shake hands with me, my friend,’ he speak, 
and I do so that. ‘ Ah, pardon, pardon, m’sieu’,’ I say. 
‘No, no, Voban; it was to be,’ he answer. ‘We shall 
meet again, comrade — eh, if we can ? ’ he speak on, and 
he turn away from me and look to the sky through the 
window. Then he look at his watch, and get to his feet, 
and stand there still. I kiss my crucifix. He reach out 
and touch it, and bring his fingers to his lips. ‘ Who can 
tell — perhaps — perhaps ! ’ he say. For a little minute — 
ah, it seem like a year, and it is so still, so still — he stand 


WHERE ALL THE LOVERS CAN HIDE.” 373 


there, and then he put his hand over the watch, lift it up, 
and shut his eyes, as if time is all done. While you can 
count ten it is so, and then the great crash come ! ” 

For a long time Voban lay silent again. I gave him 
more cordial, and he revived and ended his tale. “ I am a 
blunderer, as m’sieu’ say,” he went on, “ for he is killed, not 
Bigot and me, and only a little part of the palace go to 
pieces. And so they fetch me here, and 1 wish — my God 
in Heaven, I wish I go with M’sieu’ Doltaire !” But he 
followed him a little later. 

Two hours afterwards I went to the Intendance, and 
there I found that the body of my enemy had been placed 
in the room where I had last seen him with Alixe. He 
lay on the same couch where she had lain. The flag of 
France covered his broken body, but his face was un- 
touched — as it had been in life, haunting, fascinating, 
though the shifting lights were gone, the flne eyes closed. 
A noble peace hid all that was sardonic ; not even Gabord 
would now have called him “ Master Devil.” I covered 
up his face and left him there — peasant and prince — 
candles burning at his head and feet, and the star of Louis 
on his shattered breast ; and I saw him no more. 

All that night I walked the ramparts, thinking, re- 
membering, hoping, waiting for the morning ; and when 
I saw the light break over those far eastern parishes, 
wasted by Are and sword, I set out on a journey to the 
Valdoche Hills. 


XXX. 

“ WHERE ALL THE LOVERS CAN HIDE.” 

It was in the saffron light of early morning that I saw 
it, the Tall Calvary of the Valdoche Hills. 

25 


374 the seats op the mighty. 

The night before I had come up through a long valley, 
overhung with pines on one side and crimsoning maples 
on the other, and, travelling till nearly midnight, had lain 
down in the hollow of a bank, and listened to a little 
river leap over cascades, and, far below, go prattling on to 
the greater river in the south. My eyes closed, but for 
long I did not sleep. I heard a night-hawk go by on a 
lonely mission, a beaver slide from a log into the water, 
and the delicate humming of the pine needles was a 
drowsy music, through which broke by-and-bye the strange 
crying of a loon from the water below. I was neither 
asleep nor awake, but steeped in this wide awe of night, 
the sweet smell of earth and running water in my nostrils. 
On;oe, too, in a slight breeze, the scent of some wild ani- 
mal’s nest came past, and I found it good. I lifted up a 
handful of loose earth and powdered leaves, and held it 
to my nose — a good, brave smell — all in a sort of drowsing. 

While I mused, Doltaire’s face passed before me as it 
was in life, and I heard him say again of the peasants, 
“ These shall save the earth some day, for they are of it, 
and live close to it, and are kin to it.” 

Suddenly there rushed before me that scene in the 
convent, when all the devil in him broke loose upon the 
woman I loved. But turning on my homely bed I looked 
up and saw the deep quiet of the skies, the stable peace of 
the stars, and I was a son of the good Earth again, a so- 
journer to the tents of Home. I did not doubt that Alixe 
was alive or that I should find her. There was assurance 
in this benignant night. In that thought, dreaming that 
her cheek lay close to mine, her arm around my neck, I 
fell asleep. I waked to hear the squirrels stirring in the 
trees, the whir of the partridge, and the first unvarying 
note of the oriole. Turning on my dry, leafy bed, I 
looked down, and saw in the dim haze of dawn the beavers 
at their house-building. 


WHERE ALL THE LOVERS CAN HIDE.’ 


375 


I was at the beginning of a deep gorge or valley, on 
one side of which was a steep, sloping hill of grass and 
trees, and on the other a huge escarpment of mossed and 
jagged rocks. Then, farther up, the valley seemed to end 
in a huge promontory. On this great wedge grim shapes 
loomed in the mist, uncouth and shadowy and unnatural 
— a lonely, mysterious Brocken, impossible to human ten- 
antry. Yet as I watched the mist slowly rise, there grew 
in me the feeling that there lay the end of my quest. I 
came down to the brook, bathed my face and hands, ate 
my frugal breakfast of bread, with berries picked from 
the hillside, and, as the yellow light of the rising sun 
broke over the promontory, 1 saw the Tall Calvary upon 
a knoll, strange comrade to the huge rocks and monoliths 
— as it were vast playthings of the Mighty Men, the fabled 
ancestors of the Indian races of the land. 

I started up the valley, and presently all the earth grew 
blithe, and the birds filled the woods and valleys with 
jocund noise. 

It was near noon before I knew that my pilgrimage 
was over. 

Coming round a point of rock, I saw the Gray Monk, 
of whom strange legends had lately travelled to the city. 
I took off my cap to him reverently ; but all at once he 
threw back his cowl, and I saw — no monk, but, much 
altered, the good chaplain who had married me to Alixe 
in the Chdteau St. Louis. He had been hurt when he 
was fired upon in the water as he tried for freedom ; had 
escaped, however, got to shore, and made his way into the 
woods. There he had met Mathilde, who led him to her 
lonely home in this hill. Seeing the Tall Calvary he had 
conceived the idea of this disguise, and Mathilde had 
brought him the robe for the purpose. 

In a secluded cave I found Alixe with her father, car- 
ing for him, for he was not yet wholly recovered from his 


THE SEATS OF THE MIGHTY. 


376 

injuries. There was no waiting now. ‘The ban of Church 
did not hold my dear girl back, nor did her father do 
aught but smile when she came laughing and weeping into 
my arms. 

“ Kobert, 0 Kobert, Eobert ! ” she cried, and at first 
that was all that she could say. 

The good Seigneur put out his hand to me beseech- 
ingly. I took it, clasped it. 

“ The city ? ” he asked. 

“ Is ours,” I answered. 

“ And my son-^my son ? ” 

I told him how, the night that the city was taken, the 
Chevalier de la Darante and I had gone a sad journey in 
a boat to the Isle of Orleans, and there, in the chapel 
yard, near to his father’s chdteau, we had laid a brave and 
honest gentleman who died fighting for his country. 

By-and-bye, when their grief had a little abated, I took 
them out into the sunshine. A pleasant green valley lay 
to the north, and to the south, far off, was 'the wall of 
rosy hills that hid the captured town. Peace was upon it 
all, and upon us. 

As we stood there, a scarlet figure came winding in 
and out among the giant stones, crosses hanging at her 
girdle. She approached us, and, seeing me, she said : 
“ Hush ! I know a place where all the lovers can hide.” 

And she put a little wooden cross into my hands. 



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